


Call Me Baby

by mediwitch3



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Family, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 08:36:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 37,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediwitch3/pseuds/mediwitch3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis moves to Holmes-Chapel after his parents die in a car crash. He has custody of his five sisters, and it is through the youngest he meets Harry Styles, a preschool teacher. Life just got a lot more complicated for Louis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“C’mon Daisy, we’re going to be late!” Louis shouted down the corridor for his younger sister. Phoebe was sitting on the staircase, her brother knelt in front of her, tying her shoes. Her four year old twin came hurtling down the hallway, skidding to a halt in front of her siblings and dropping her bag on the ground. Louis did the final knot on Phoebe’s shoe, before picking up Daisy and putting her on the staircase. She hummed happily as he did up her laces.

“Lou?”

“Yes, love?”

“Will we like our new school better than Lottie likes hers?” Louis frowned.

“Lottie’s just having trouble adjusting, my lovely. She’ll be fine, and you’re going to  _love_  your new school. I hear the teacher’s really, really nice.”

He smiled at her and kissed her nose. She giggled before jumping up and grabbing her bag. She skipped over to her sister and grabbed her hand. Phoebe looked at her and smiled a little, before the two skipped out the door together. Louis grinned a little sadly at his two sisters. They were too young to understand, luckily.

Georgia barely did, as she was only six, but it was enough to occasionally have her climbing into Louis’ bed at night crying. But Felicity and Lottie were the worst. Flick was eight, so she knew that mummy and daddy weren’t coming back, that they weren’t just on a really long vacation. Lottie was having the worst time of everyone, though. Maybe even worse than Louis, because Louis at least had the girls to focus on. Lottie was ten years old, and she was having a horrible time in school. She came home everyday in a bad mood, went to her room, and didn’t come out until tea time. After dinner, she was back in her bedroom, until after lights out. Louis had been woken on multiple occasions by her crawling into his bed crying. It devastated him, seeing his little sister so hurt. He’d curl around her, rubbing her back and whispering comforting things in her ear until she drifted off again. Louis was nearly at his breaking point with all of the pressure that came with raising five young girls on his own. In the four months since the accident, they had moved to a small village in Cheshire, called Holmes-Chapel. Louis had needed somewhere quiet he could take his sisters, somewhere safe, with good schools and job openings. Lottie, Georgia, and Flick had been in school for almost a month, and today was Daisy and Phoebe’s first day of preschool.

Daisy scampered towards the car, pulling her twin along with her. After the move, Daisy and Phoebe’s personalities had really come through. Daisy became much more outgoing, and extremely overprotective of her twin. Phoebe turned shy, hiding behind Daisy, or Louis’ pant leg, whenever they were in new company. But most of all, it had brought the two already almost inseparable girls  _closer_. They now slept in the same bed, played together, and went everywhere together. There was no separating them.

Louis unlocked the van with the key remote, the door sliding open automatically. He hoisted Daisy up, buckling her into her seat, before doing the same with Phoebe. He closed the door and climbed into the drivers seat, setting the GPS directions. He listened idly to Daisy and Phoebe chatting idly in the back seat, focusing more on getting to the school on time.

They pulled up to a long, red brick building, that looked like it only had one level. After parking the car, Louis extracted the twins from their car seats. Holding one of each of their hands, he lead the way into the reception area. Phoebe looked at the woman behind the desk and immediately started whimpering, clinging desperately to Louis’ hand. He sighed, leaning down and picking her up, allowing her to curl into him and hide her face in his shirt. Even Daisy looked a bit nervous as they approached the stern looking lady sitting at the computer. She clung tightly to his pant leg, half hiding from whatever monstrosity she imagined the woman to be. Louis leaned a little closer, subconsciously tightening his hold on Phoebe as the woman looked up.

“Hi, I enrolled my little sisters here a few months ago? Daisy and Phoebe Tomlinson?” The woman, Sheila, her name tag said, looked up at him sternly before clicking a few things on the computer.

“Four year olds?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Styles’ll be their teacher. Take a left at the door over there, then it’s the first door on your right.” She pointe one long, manicured fingernail at a blue door behind him. He nodded and thanked her, hurrying Daisy along behind him. As he opened the second door, he saw a young man talking to a little girl. He was the only one in there, so Louis decided to go ask him if he knew where the teacher was. The young man’s hair was curly and brown, and when he looked up at Louis, his eyes were a startlingly clear green. Louis cleared his throat nervously.

“Do you know where Mr. Styles is?” The green eyed man smirked.

“You’re looking at him. Harry Styles.” He held out a hand for Louis to shake, awkwardly, as Phoebe was still in his arms. He smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry, it’s just you’re so—”

“Young, I know. I’ve been working here for a little under a year, but I did a volunteer thing before I was legally able to work, and then I student-teachered last year, and this year I get my own class! Who’re these lovely ladies?” He smiled kindly down at Daisy, crouching at her level. She giggled buried her face in Louis’ leg. Harry laughed, straightening up to look back at Louis, his eyes twinkling.

“That’s Daisy, this is Phoebe, and I’m Louis. Tomlinson.” Harry grinned at him.

“Lovely to meet you, sir. Your daughters can just put their things in the cubbies over there, under their names.”

“They’re not my daughters. They’re my little sisters.” Harry raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, sorry. Over here then.” He moved toward the light colored, wooden holes in the wall that were the cubbies, Louis following slowly. He set Phoebe down, only to have her whimper and reach for him again. He crouched down in front of her.

“Phoebe, my love, you’re a big girl now. I can’t always be holding you, and how do you suppose the other kids are going to feel about you if they see you still being held? I know it’d your first day, and you’re scared, but you’ll be fine. Daisy’s here with you, and Mr. Styles is a very nice man, he’ll take very good care of you, I promise.” Phoebe sniffled a little and nodded, before turning to her sister, who had just put away her bag. Daisy smiled at Phoebe, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the legos. Louis smiled fondly after them before turning back to Harry, who had a calculating look on his face.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?” Louis raised an eyebrow.

“I’m twenty. I could ask you the same thing.”

“Eighteen.” Louis’ eyebrows shot up.

“Eighteen? How do you have the requirements for the job if you’re  _eighteen?_  You should be starting Uni at this age!” Harry just chuckled at him.

“I graduated early. I skipped two grades, and the last two years of college I was getting Uni credits. I meet the requirements, don’t worry. They wouldn’t have hired me if they didn’t think I was right for the job.” Louis was stunned, and a bit confused.

“If you were smart enough to graduate early, why would you go into daycare?”

“Law school was boring? I don’t know, I just love kids, and I’m good with them. I don’t have to do this forever, but I like it, so I might as well do it now, while I’m young, and can run after them easier.”

Louis chuckled. He knew very well how hard it was to take care of kids. Even when his parents had been alive, he had done a lot of the care taking while his mum and dad worked. Daisy and Phoebe had been a handful, not to mention Georgia, who was only two years older than them.

Louis looked down as his phone started to vibrate in his pocket. He quickly tapped in his passcode, listening to the  _shick_  as it unlocked.

 _Hey, mate, fifteen minutes till clock in. I hope you’ve left._  Zayn

Louis’ hand flew to his forehead, shock crossing his features. It took him at least fifteen minutes to get there, and that was  _without_  traffic.

“Shoot! I need to go! I’m gonna be late! Daisy, Phoebe, come say goodbye, I’ve got to go!” Daisy and Phoebe hurried over to him rushing into his open arms. “Be good, okay lovelies?” They both nodded, but Phoebe’s lip started to wobble. Louis quickly stood up, walking towards the door, and throwing over his shoulder a quick “It was nice to meet, you, sorry I’ve gotta run” to Harry. His heart broke as the door swung shut, Phoebe’s whimper echoing in his ears.

*~*~*~*

Louis rushed through the door, all but running to the clock in. He punched his card just as the clock struck nine. He let out a breath of relief. He had made it. Barely.

“Hey, brotha, how’d daycare go this mornin’?” Louis turned around to see Zayn standing behind him, already in his uniform, with towel over his shoulder a bin of dirty dishes in his hands.

“Fine, I guess. Better than most first days go, I’d assume. Phoebe cried a bit, but I wasn’t there for the inevitable melt down. I had to run, because I got caught up talking to the teacher, and I didn’t realize the time. Phoebe was starting when I left. The teacher seems really nice, though. He should be able to handle her.” Zayn grinned.

“What were you talking to the teacher about?”

“His school. It was really embarrassing; I walked in there and asked him if he knew where the teacher was, ‘cause he looked so  _young_ , I didn’t think for a second  _he_ could be the teacher!” Zayn raised an eyebrow.

“How old is he?”

“ _Eighteen.”_

“ _Eighteen?_  How is that even  _possible_?”

“Apparently, he skipped two grades, then got uni credits during his last two years of college, so he graduated early.”

“Brains like that, why on  _earth_  would he go into childcare, of all things? He could be a billionaire, or something. Like Bill Gates.” Louis shrugged.

“He said he liked kids. I’m not really in a position to judge, though, am I?” Zayn shook his head sympathetically.

“It’s not your fault you’re stuck as a waiter. You’ve gotta be home for the girls. And, if you hadn’t come here, you never would have met  _me_ , your best friend for life!” Louis chuckled and slung an arm around Zayn’s shoulders.

“You’re right. C’mon, let’s go see what Simon has in store for us today.”

*~*~*

Louis nervously pulled into the daycare car park, switching off the ignition and sliding out of the van. He walked quickly through the reception area, nodding at Sheila, before opening the door to the classroom. Daisy and Phoebe were cuddled into Harry’s chest, Phoebe with her thumb in her mouth, as Harry read them “Skippy Jon Jones”. Louis’ heart melted at the sight, but he also felt guilty. He was the last one here, and he knew he had been a little  _too_  late, especially since it was the girls’ first day. Harry looked up as he walked closer, and nudged the girls, who were entirely engrossed in the pictures of the book. They looked up and immediately started squealing, detaching themselves from Harry, and running quickly at their brother. He crouched down with open arms, scooping them up into a bear hug. He pulled back a little bit, a wide smile on his face.

“How was your first day? Did you have a good time?” Daisy immediately launched into a story about her day, telling him about art, and reading, and physical game, and free play (“We got to play with the legos for a whole  _hour,_  Lou!”), and the smile on her face was brilliant and wonderful and made Louis finally feel like he had done something right. After Daisy finished, he turned to Phoebe, who had been watching him the whole time. She pulled back from him entirely and crossed her arms.

“You’re late.” Louis sighed.

“I know, my love. James cut his hand, so I had to cover for him. I couldn’t turn down the overtime.” Louis knew that this explanation wasn’t good enough for a four year old, but what was he supposed to tell her? Phoebe looked at him contemplatively for a moment, before sighing.

“Okay, I guess I can forgive you. Just don’t do it again.” Louis smiled at her and kissed her nose.

“I’ll try my best, my lovely. Now, can you two go get your things together while I talk to Mr. Styles?” Daisy and Phoebe nodded, rushing off towards the cubbies. Louis straightened up and smiled sheepishly at Harry.

“I’m really sorry about this, honestly. I just really need the extra cash, and his shift only ended a little while after mine, so I thought I’d be able to make it. It’s not going to be a regular thing, I promise, I just—”

“Mr. Tomlinson, it’s perfectly fine. I’ve seen a lot of parents be late to pick their kids up, in my time here. It happens to everyone, and the teachers are obligated, morally and legally, to stay with the kids until a parent or guardian comes to get them. It really isn’t a problem, and, frankly, I love your girls. They’re very well behaved, and  _very_ smart. They  _read_.  _Fluently_. That is not natural for most four year olds. I’m very impressed.” Louis beamed.

“I know, they’re so great. Did you get any water works from Phoebe?” Harry grinned at him.

“Nearly, but I managed to diffuse the tension. I don’t know if you’re busy, but there’s a parents’ night every year that they hold so that parents can get to know each other and the teachers. It’s usually a good place to get phone numbers and addresses of the other kids, so that you can set up play dates, and stuff.”

“What day is it?”

“This coming Friday, the fourth of October.”

“Will you be there?” Harry smirked at him.

“I’m a teacher, I have to be there. Here, take this flier. It starts at seven, because parents need to be home to put the little ones to bed.”

Louis accepted the flier, nodding along as Harry spoke to him. He looked down as little arms wrapped themselves around his calfs, smiling at his sisters. They grinned back up at him through their bangs.

“Ready to go, girls?” They giggled and nodded at him. “Say good-bye to Mr. Styles.” They grinned wider and attacked Harry’s legs, giggling as he crouched down and pulled them into a hug. Daisy and Phoebe then re-attached themselves to Louis, this time to his hands, and allowed him to pull them towards the door.

“Good night, Mr. Tomlinson.”

“Call me Louis, please, Mr. Styles.”

“If I’m calling you ‘Louis’, then you have to call me ‘Harry’.”

“Fine, then,  _Harry_. Good night.”

“Good night.”


	2. Chapter 2

Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday passed quickly and relatively uneventfully. Daisy and Phoebe were very happy with their new school; they absolutely  _adored_  Harry. Louis was quite fond of the preschool teacher, himself. Every morning that week, Louis had brought the girls to the daycare early, staying and talking to him for ten minutes or so before heading off to work. Everyday after school, Louis was the last one in, staying and talking to Harry some more before the girls started complaining that they were hungry, and they really should get going anyway because Lottie, Flick, and Georgia would be home soon, and he needed to be there to answer the door.

Harry really brightened Louis’ mood, and just about  _everyone_  had noticed his change in demeanor. Louis would waltz into work everyday, greeting everyone with smiles and a chipper “good morning!”. He treated the  _rudest_  of customers with kindness, something that was impressive in itself. This had gone on for a week, and as Louis glided through the door that Friday morning, barely making it on time for the fifth time that week, Zayn finally cracked.

“Did you meet a girl, or something?” Louis looked at him, confused.

“No… What makes you say that?”

“You’ve nearly been late everyday this week! And you come in with this massive smile and a great attitude, and I’m sorry, mate, but as happy and nice as you generally are, this is excessive, and not the you I know.” Louis shrugged at him.

“I’ve been late because I’ve had to drop the girls off at daycare, and my life if a lot easier now that I don’t have to find someone to watch them. They come home and sleep, too, because they’re so worn out from preschool. Harry says they’re very competitive during physical games, and they run around a lot during recess, so when they come home, they’re completely worn out.” Zayn raised an eyebrow.

“Harry? Who’s Harry?”

“The twin’s preschool teacher.” Zayn’s eyebrow disappeared into his hairline.

“I don’t usually deal with my sister’s or kid’s teachers, but aren’t you supposed to address them the same way the kids do? Like Mr… Whatever his last name is?”

“Me and Harry are friends, sort of. We don’t hang out, or anything, but we’re friendly enough that it’d be weird if I called him ‘Mr. Styles’ and he called me ‘Mr. Tomlinson’. Oh, that reminds me: do you think you might be able to watch the girls this evening? From about 6:45 to eight?”

“I mean, sure, but why?”

“It’s parent’s night at the preschool.” Zayn smirked.

“You going to talk to your new ‘friend’?” He raised his hands, making exaggerated quotation marks with his fingers as he said “friend”. Louis rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know,  _actually_. I may not even get the chance to, because there’ll be a lot of parents there.”

“Lot of MILFs tryina steal your man?”

“Why do you keeping trying to insinuate that Harry’s my ‘man’?”

“Mate, it’s obvious that the reason you’ve been so happy this week is because of him. He’s the only thing that’s really  _changed_  in your life, recently.” Louis looked at the floor.

“That’s the thing, though.  _Every thing’s_  changed. Harry makes me feel normal, less like a dad. I haven’t been this happy, or felt this at home since my parents died. At this point, I’m not really up for questioning it, I’d rather just  _be_  for once. Not that you and Liam haven’t been great, but… I don’t know. He makes it easier. When I’m talking to him, I forget that I have obligations, and that my parents are dead, and that  _I’m_ the parent now. I feel like a kid again. He just… I don’t know. He makes me feel better.” Zayn looked at him with a soft expression, a small, sad smile touching the corners of his lips.

“I get it, Lou. What time do you want me at your house tonight?” Louis smiled softly back at him.

“Around 6:40? That’s probably a bit early, but it’ll give me a chance to explain what needs to happen, and maybe even be a bit early.” Zayn nodded, and threw an arm around his shoulder.

“Sure. Now c’mon. We’ve wasted enough time in here, and Liam’ll have our arses if he’s out there bussing tables by himself much longer.”

*~*~*~*

When Zayn arrived at the Tomlinson house, he was surprised to see Flick answer the door. She grinned at him and reached up for a hug.

“Are you watching us tonight, Zayn?” Zayn grinned down at the eight year old, kissing her cheek.

“Yes, love. Where’s your brother?” Flick giggled pointing upstairs.

“He’s having one of his episodes. Daisy and Phoebe are upstairs getting into every thing and—”

“ _Daisy, if you touch one more thing, I will tell Zayn that you’re on lock down, and there’ll be no tv, no sweets, and you’ll be in bed early. Do you understand?”_

Zayn shook his head at his friend. Maybe he should have gotten here sooner, to help him out while he got ready. He sighed, turning to address Flick.

“Go on back to the living room, I’ll go see if I can help him out.”

Flick nodded and scampered off. Zayn turned and loped up the stairs, taking them two at a time. When he reached the landing, he turned down the hallway to the right, where Louis, Daisy and Phoebe, and Georgia’s rooms all were. He knocked on the door at the end, exactly opposite Lottie’s door, at the other end of the corridor. There was a yelp and some scrambling, before the door opened to reveal a shirtless, disheveled Louis, and a slightly frightened looking Phoebe and Daisy. Zayn snorted at him, giving him a once over, before turning to the girls.

“Come on, ladies, let’s go downstairs and let your brother have some time to choose his outfit. He has to make a good impression, doesn’t he?” Daisy and Phoebe ran over to him, giving his legs hugs.

“Thank you, so much, mate. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Louis sent him a grateful, yet exhausted, smile.

“Don’t worry about it, what are friends for? Come down when you’re ready, I’ll be in the living room with the girls.” Zayn said, before turning and walking, with the girls still attached to his legs and giggling, toward the stairs.

*~*~*~*

At 6:53 p.m., Louis came rushing down the stairs, grabbing his shoes before running into the living room. He hopped, trying to fit his shoe onto his foot, before realizing it was the  _wrong_ foot. Switching, he looked at Zayn.

“Okay, Daisy, Phoebe, and Georgia need to start getting ready for bed at seven thirty, I’ll put them to bed when I get back, but if I end up being later than eight thirty, go ahead and put them to bed. I’ll text you or something if that happens,” he switched to the other shoe, pausing momentarily as he pulled the laces out of the inside, “Flick should start getting ready for bed around eight, but I should be home around then anyway, so I wouldn’t worry too much about that. Again, I’ll text you if you’re going to have to end up putting them to bed. Make sure Georgia takes her cough medicine before brushing her teeth, I’ve put the stuff on the counter next to the sink in the bathroom. Um… No more than a half hour of TV, I’d like them to play, or read, or do something else. If they want they can have  _one_  scoop of ice cream, each,” here, he looked at the twins and Georgia pointedly, “but no more, because they won’t sleep otherwise. I think that’s it. You’ve got my cell phone number, and the number for the daycare center is on the fridge, in case of emergencies. Have fun lovelies, I’ll be back soon.” He bent to give each of the girls a kiss and a hug, squeezing them gently, and smoothing their hair. He looked towards Zayn once he’d made his rounds.

“Thanks  _so_ much for doing this. I’ll see you later, mate.” Zayn smirked at him.

“Have fun with Harry, mate.” Zayn winked at him, and Louis rolled his eyes in return. He made his way towards the door, tossing one last good-bye over his shoulder.

*~*~*~*

Louis realized, upon entering the classroom, that there were a lot more people than he had anticipated. A cursory glance around the room told him that many people were here in pairs, and a feeling of inadequacy setting in his stomach, suddenly feeling very out of place. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. No one had noticed his arrival, he could always just leave. His plans of escape were thwarted, however, when a beaming Harry came up to him, holding a name tag and a sharpie.

“You came! Here, write your name, and the names of the twins underneath. It’ll help people identify you.” Harry handed him the name tag and sharpie, watching Louis look at it for a moment before rolling his eyes and taking it from him. He pulled off the anti-adhesive backing and smacked the name tag to the left, breast pocket of Louis’ shirt. He uncapped the sharpie and wrote, in small, neat lettering,  _“Louis Tomlinson. Daisy and Phoebe Tomlinson”._ Louis resisted shifting uncomfortably at the strange sensation of someone writing on him through his clothes and the paper of the name tag. Harry straightened up when he had finished, looking at Louis as he recapped the sharpie. He tapped Louis’ cheek with a large finger.

“Don’t look so scared, they’re only parents. C’mon, I’ll introduce you to a few.” Harry gently tugged on Louis’ arm, pulling him in the direction of a small group of parents to their left.

Harry put on a huge grin as they approached, is hand slipping down to Louis’ wrist, keeping a firm hold as if to say “you’re okay, I’ve got you”. The parents looked up from their conversation, smiling politely at the two young men.

“Hey, everyone, this is Louis Tomlinson. He’s new to the town, so he doesn’t know much of anyone yet.” Harry said, smiling around at the group. They looked him up and down, and Louis squirmed internally under their scrutiny, waving awkwardly and muttering “hello”. A blonde haired woman with too much rouge on her cheeks glared at him critically.

“You look a little  _young_  to be a parent. How old are you, anyway?” She asked, a bit rudely. Louis shifted nervously.

“Er, I’m twenty, but I’m not a parent. I have custody of my little sisters, and two of them are enrolled here, for while I’m at work.” A mousy looking brunette looked at him sharply.

“How do you have custody of your sisters? And how many do you  _have_ , anyway?” Louis’ eyes shifted over to her, defiance settling into his features. He felt Harry grip his wrist a little tighter, grounding him. He took a little breath before attempting to communicate again.

“I have five, and I have custody of them because four months ago, my parents died in a car crash. I’m the eldest, and rather than have them split up and put into foster care,” he spat these words as if they burned his tongue, “I agreed to take legal custody of them.”

He was slightly shocked when a young brunette woman, in her mid thirties, smiled brightly at him. She had her arm around a tall, relatively young looking man with a quiff. Their name tags said ‘Caroline Murs’ and ‘Olly Murs’.

“I think it’s admirable. You must have sacrificed a lot for your sisters, and I’m sure that, even if right now they don’t understand, they’ll be very grateful when they get older.” She said, sweetly. He instantly liked the woman, not just for standing up for him, but she and her husband seemed like very nice people. He was just getting those…  _Vibes_  from her. Her smile widened a little bit as her eyes flickered to his name tag.

“You’re  _Daisy and Phoebe’s_  guardian? My son is in  _love_ with them. He doesn’t stop talking about them ever. He has a lot of trouble telling them apart, you see, so he just talks about them like they’re one person. I hear they’re very intelligent, as well.”

Louis grinned at her. Yes, he definitely liked this woman. He and Caroline got quite caught up in their conversation, not really noticing as the other parents kind of moved away. Olly and Harry stood beside the two, chatting about sports and other “manly” things. Louis ended up getting Caroline’s phone number, in exchange for his, and they planned to set up a play date with her son, Jonathan. Louis was sad when eight o’clock rolled around and it was time to leave. He waited with Harry as he bade good-bye to all the parents leaving. After the last one left, the two of them exited, Harry shutting off the lights and locking the classroom door behind them. He grinned down at Louis.

“So, did you have a good time?” Louis laughed heartily.

“Yeah, I did, in the end. I was a bit apprehensive at first, some of those parents seemed really horrible. But Caroline was  _lovely_ , I’m really glad I got a chance to meet her.” Louis said, skipping a little bit all the endorphins making his body feel light. Louis, while looking over at his new friend as they walked to their cars, was struck by an idea.

“Would you like to come over for dinner tomorrow? On Saturdays, my work mates come over for dinner, so I would already be cooking for eight, what’s nine? If you’re not already busy, of course.” Harry looked at him, slightly incredulously.

“Really? It won’t be weird?” They had stopped by Louis car for the moment. Louis shook his head vehemently.

“No! No, not at all! Daisy and Phoebe would be  _ecstatic,_ and I’d really love to have you there as well! Please?” Harry looked at the ground, biting his lip as though he were considering it, when in reality he was just holding back a smile. He looked back up at him.

“Yeah, I’d love to.” Louis beamed, launching himself towards his friend and wrapping his arms around his neck. Harry froze for a moment, before carefully wrapping his own arms around Louis’ waist. He slowly relaxed, a warm, fuzzy feeling settling in his stomach. Louis eventually pulled back, knowing he had to get going and put the girls to bed, as it was already gone eight.

“Great!” he smiled, “dinner’ll be at six thirty, but you can come around six. And thank you, you know, for getting me out tonight.” Harry grinned down at him.

“It’s not a thing. Good night, Lou.” Louis opened the door to his car as Harry started to walk away.

“Good night, Haz.”


	3. Chapter 3

Saturday morning dawned bright and cold, the grass on the front lawn frosted a bit and crunching under the toes of Louis’ slippers as he ventured outside to get the paper.

On any normal Saturday, Louis would get up at around 7:30 am, when the twins came in complaining that they were hungry. He’d take them downstairs and set them up at the table with some food, cereal, eggs, whatever he felt like cooking, while he went outside to get the paper. He’d then come back inside and sit with the twins, reading the paper as they ate their breakfasts.

This morning, though, Louis was having trouble concentrating. He was sat at the table, as usual, Daisy and Phoebe chattering at each other over their bowls of Captain Crunch. He cleared his throat, flicking the paper back into its upright position in his hands, trying to focus on the words of the article. By the time the twins had finished their breakfasts, he had read about three sentences. He decided to give up on the paper all together, moving to put the girls’ dishes in the sink. The three of them went upstairs, Louis getting them their clothes for the day, and helping them into them. He decided on something plain for now, he’d change them later, so that their clothes wouldn’t be dirty when Harry got there.

He spent the day cleaning frantically, wondering how on  _earth_  he managed to live in such a state, much less how he had managed to keep the girls alive. By five o’clock in he was in such a state of panic that all the girls could do was sit and watch him. Why had he invited Harry again? He couldn’t see him in this pig sty! Oh god, what if Harry thought he was gross, and didn’t ever want to talk to him again. Louis looked up as Georgia scampered out of the room, a little while later. An excited shout of  _“Liam!”_  was heard from the doorway. Oh thank god.

Liam entered the room with Georgia in his arms, smiling a bit at the sight of a very frazzled Louis.

“Alright, Lou?” He smirked.

“No, I’m  _not_  alright! Why am I such a pig? Harry’s going to see this mess and think I’m horrible and never want to see me again and I can’t—” Liam put one of his hands on Louis’ shoulder, cutting him off.

“Lou, calm down. This place looks great! Better than I’ve seen it in a  _while_ , so stop worrying. Have you started dinner yet?” Louis shook his head. Lottie snorted.

“No, he’s been panicking too much.” Louis glared at her.

“Shut it, Lottie, I have not.” Flick snickered.

“You have so, Lou.” She giggled.

“You be quiet, too.” Louis poked his tongue out at them. Liam rolled his eyes.

“Tell you what: you get dinner started, and I’ll get the young ones changed, then I’ll come down and take over for you while you get changed. Good?” Louis nodded gratefully.

“Sounds like a plan.”

*~*~*

When Zayn walked in fifteen minutes later, he found Louis on the floor, face down, the girls sat around playing games. He prodded Louis with his foot.

“Is Liam here?”

“Kitchen,” Louis grunted into the floor. Zayn walked into the kitchen, where, sure enough, there was Liam, cooking dinner. He nodded at Zayn, who gestured over his shoulder with his thumb.

“Why’s Louis on the floor?” Liam snorted.

“He finally hit his breaking point. I got here about forty-five minutes ago, and he was  _freaking out_. I basically had to take over for him, because he was in no state to be handling fire or children,” Liam said, rolling his eyes. They both looked up at the strangled groan that floated through from the living room.

“ _MY LIFE IS OVER. I GIVE UP. I’M DONE. GO ON WITHOUT ME.”_

The two young men snorted.

“He’s so melodramatic.” Zayn nodded in agreement.

“ _Why are we going on without you? And why are you on the floor?”_  An unfamiliar voice drifted through the kitchen door, amusement evident in it. Zayn looked at Liam as they heard Louis squeak, and a shuffling noise as Louis presumably got up off the floor.

“That must be Harry.” Liam and Zayn exchanged mischevous looks before running out to greet the newest arrival.

Harry was stood in front of Louis, with his back to Zayn and Liam, but they could see Louis’ face. It was flushed, and he couldn’t seem to look Harry in the eyes. They watched Harry take a step forward.

“Come on, Lou. What’s wrong?” His voice had changed, going from amusedly exasperated to concerned. Louis finally looked at him.

“Nothing, I was just freaking out a bit, because I didn’t think the house was clean… Just me being dumb.” He smiled sheepishly. Harry grinned at Louis, surveying the room.

“It  _is_  a bit messy,” he teased gently, the grin still evident in his voice. Louis poked his tongue out, shoving Harry gently. Zayn and Liam watched as Harry pulled Louis in for a hug, Louis automatically melting into the touch, his arms wrapping around Harry’s back. He looked startled when he caught their eyes over Harry’s shoulder, but relaxed again as Harry squeezed him a bit, before pulling back. Louis turned him gently, gesturing towards his friends.

“That’s Zayn, and that’s Liam. Liam’s been cooking dinner, and I suppose Zayn’s been helping him…” Louis trailed off a bit as Harry turned his smirk on him.

“You were laying on the floor this whole time, weren’t you.” It wasn’t a question, so Louis felt no need to answer him, merely turning his nose up at him, causing Harry to chuckle before extending a hand to Zayn and Liam, each in turn.

“Harry Styles, it’s a pleasure.”

“Zayn Malik, I work with Louis.”

“Liam Payne, I work with these two, as well. Though they mostly just chat and leave me to bus the tables.”

“We do not, Liam!” Louis spluttered. Zayn nodded.

“Yes, we do, Louis.” Zayn grinned at him, as Louis rolled his eyes. Their heads turned at the sound of little feet on the stairs. Daisy and Phoebe flew into the room, excited smiles on their faces. Upon seeing Harry, they squealed delightedly, throwing themselves at him. He laughed, catching them up in his arms. He crouched down, letting them babble at him for a moment about the day, grinning up at Louis as they mentioned how frantic he’d been. Louis just flushed a bit. The girls then started pulling Harry towards the living room.

“Come color with us, Harry!”

“Dinner won’t be on for a while—”

“Because Liam’s a slow cook—”

“He almost always has to bin the first try—”

“And start again!” Zayn chuckled at Liam’s indignant face, pulling him into a side hug.

“It’s true, mate. No worries, though. Super Zayn’s here to save the day!” And with that, he turned and pulled Liam into the kitchen once more. Harry looked at Louis, who shrugged.

“Zayn and Liam have been friends since they were kids. It’s probably an inside joke.” Harry nodded, laughing as Daisy and Phoebe started pulling on him impatiently.

“Alright, alright, let’s go, then.” The girls cheered, dashing into the living room to set up their coloring supplies. Harry made to follow them, looking to Louis to see if he was coming, but was cut off by a shout from the kitchen.

“LOUIS TELL ZAYN TO GET THE SPOON AWAY.” Louis chuckled, shrugging appologetically at Harry as he made his way towards the kitchen. He winced as a shrill shriek pierced the air, Louis rolling his eyes at his friends’ antics. Harry followed the twins into the living room, settling down at the coffee table with them, grabbing the green crayon to color Ariel’s tail.

In the kitchen, Liam and Zayn had Louis cornered. A pot of pasta was simmering on the stove behind them as they stared him down.

“So, Louis… What happened to not dating him, huh?” Zayn began. Louis looked confused.

“I’m not dating him.”

“Louis, people in a platonic relationships do not hug like that.” Liam told him, his gaze motherly in its sternness. Louis rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, guys. We’re not dating, okay? Just leave it.” Liam and Zayn exchanged looks, looking like they wanted to press it a bit. Louis was saved by the pot of pasta bubbling aggressively, Zayn whipping his head around and shouting for Liam to  _“GRAB THE STRAINER, QUICKLY, LIAM”._ Louis sidled out of the kitchen, making a mad dash for the living room—after last time, he did  _not_  want to be there for this part.

He found Harry sitting and coloring at the coffee table, Daisy and Phoebe chattering to each other and to him about everything that passed through their brains.

“You have to color the fire truck  _red_ , Harry—”

“Yeah, you can’t color it  _blue—_ ”

“Color the sky blue, Harry, and the truck red—”

“But don’t color the windows red—”

“Or the firemen won’t be able to see, and then they’ll crash—”

“And the people will die in the fire.” The three of them looked up as Louis sat down next to Harry. The twin’s faces lit up.

“Yay! Harry now you and Louis can have the drawing contest—”

“Yeah, Harry, you promised!” Harry laughed.

“Alright, alright. What should we draw?”

“EACH OTHER!” They cried in unison. Louis shrugged, pulling a piece of paper and a crayon towards him.

The two drew in silence for a moment, the noise of Daisy and Phoebe chattering at each other turning into a faint buzzing in the background. Louis winced. His Harry looked terrible—it was basically a stick figure with some curls. At least he’d made the eyes green, though. Oh, who was he kidding? This was awful. He curled his arm around his paper, peaking over at Harry’s. Harry noticed him looking and quickly covered his with his arm. Louis poked out his tongue at him, and Harry rolled his eyes good naturedly in return.

“Times up!” Daisy yelled, brandishing her pink crayon at them. Harry turned his around. Louis’ jaw dropped.

“What?  _What?_  That’s not  _fair_! Are you artist  _too?_  Is there anything you’re _not_  good at? AND HOW DID YOU MANAGE TO DO THAT IN  _CRAYON_?”

Harry threw his head back, laughing heartily. He shrugged, still chuckling as he indicated Louis’ picture.

“Let’s see how you’ve done, then, Lou.” Louis was engulfed by a feeling of inadequacy. He whined a bit in the back of his throat, clutching the picture to his chest. Harry raised an eyebrow, motioning for the picture with his hand.

“C’mon, Louis. Hand it over.” Louis shook his head playfully, a smug smile on his face.

“Nope, Haz, you’re  _never_  going to see this disaster.” Harry smirked.

“That so?” Louis eyed him warily.

“Yeah…” Harry’s smirk widened, before he launched himself at Louis, knocking him to the ground. Louis squeaked embarrassingly, attempting to scramble away, while still holding onto his picture. They wrestled for a few minutes, Harry finally managing to pin Louis’ hips down with his pelvis, battling Louis’ arms to try and reach the picture. He finally wrestled it out of Louis’ grip, dancing away to a safe distance before looking at it. His eyes widened, before laughter trickled in, his whole face lighting up with delight as the laughter bubbled out of his mouth. Louis was struck by the thought that if that was Harry’s reaction to his drawings, he’d draw for Harry every day, just to see him like that. Harry turned it around, pointing at it with a delightedly incredulous face.

“Is this  _really_  what I look like to you?” Louis smiled sheepishly.

“Well,  _no_ , but art has never really been my strong point.” Harry looked at him sarcastically.

“Really, Louis? I  _never_ would have guessed that.” He rolled his eyes, a small, good natured smile on his lips.

“Oi, love birds, dinner’s ready!” Zayn’s voice barked from the dining room. Louis held out a hand to Daisy, who grabbed it.

“Come on then, my loves, let’s go get fed.” Louis said to them. Phoebe dropped her crayon, attaching herself to Harry’s hand, and they walked into the dining room together.

***~*~*~***

Dinner at the Tomlinsons was always a boisterous affair. There was a lot of chattering and clinking and  _“Daisy, forks are_ _ **not**_ _weapons!”_. At some point, every evening, Georgia, Daisy, and Phoebe would start flinging food. Zayn and Liam were never helpful when this happened, as they just encouraged , and even participated in, the food-flinging. That was fine for them, _they_ didn’t have to clean up later. Louis was particularly nervous that evening, as he didn’t want Harry to think he had no control over his sisters. They had sat across from each other, Zayn and Liam sitting at the ends, Lottie nearest Zayn, Flick and Georgia on either side of Liam. Daisy sat next to Louis, across from her twin who was chattering to Harry. Louis leaned over, cutting Daisy’s spaghetti for her, when Georgia started kicking her. Louis shot her a look, subtly shaking his head at her. She just grinned, picking up her spoon and getting a spoonful of peas onto it.   
  


“Georgia,  _no._ ” Louis said sternly. Georgia aimed her spoon at Daisy, pulling it back and launching it at her. The peas scattered, some of them hitting their target, others going on the floor. Daisy glared at her, picking up some spaghetti, pulling her arm back, ready to launch. Louis quickly grabbed her hand, forcing her to drop the spaghetti on the plate.  _Of all the nights to do this,_  Louis thought,  _this is not the one._ He looked at the two girls sternly.

“Not tonight, girls. If you try and throw food  _one more time,_ you will go to be without finishing your dinner.” Georgia pouted, but she seemed to get the message. Meanwhile, on his other side, Lottie was snickering. Louis looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Eager to impress, this evening, aren’t we, Lou?” Lottie smirked at him, Louis glared at her. He couldn’t help it, he was stressed and he was tired of people making fun of him.

“You know what, Lottie? I’m tired of your attitude. Their deaths hit  _all_  of us, and I’m tired of you acting like it’s all about you. You don’t realize how much I  _do_  for you, and you’ve never _once_  said thank you. Be sad, be angry, fine, but stop taking it out on us.” Lottie’s face froze for a second, before she pushed her chair back from the table.

“Excuse me.” Lottie rushed from the room, her face dangerously close to tearful. Harry looked after her sadly. He looked at Louis.

“Do you mind if I go talk to her?” Louis shook his head.

“Be my guest. I can’t get anything out of her, and it’s killing me to see her so upset.” Harry nodded at his new friend, getting up from the table and making his way to Lottie’s room. He paused outside her door, knocking gently. Her scratchy, saddened voice floated out in response.

“Go away, Louis. Shouldn’t you be entertaining your  _party guests?”_

“It’s not Louis. It’s Harry. Do you mind if I come in?”

There was a brief pause on the other side of the door, before it creaked open slowly. Lottie looked up at him, her tear-streaked face skeptical. He walked cautiously over to her bed, sitting down and gesturing for her to sit next to him. She did, after closing the door. He looked at her kindly.

“I know how it feels, losing a parent. My dad died when I was your age, and my mum remarried. It must be twice as bad for you, losing both, and having to relocate.” Lottie’s eyes welled up at this, and she took a deep, shaky breath.

“I just feel like everyone’s moved on, and I’m still stuck here grieving. I don’t  _want_  to miss them all the time. I don’t  _like_  the hurt or the attention this has gotten me. I just want to go back to how things  _were_ , when Louis was my brother, and not my  _dad_.” She whispered this, almost as though she were confessing a dirty secret. Harry gave her knee a reassuring pat.

“When my dad died, I was just like you. My mum and my sister moved on, my mum remarrying and my sister just accepting what was. I was too young, though. My sister left shortly after, to go to Uni, so I was left at home with my mum and my step dad, who, as I’m sure you can imagine, I was none too fond of. It felt like everyone was trying to remove my dad’s memory from the house, and my step dad was trying to take his place. I was furious—I almost dropped out of school. It was probably the  _worst_  time of my life. Do you wanna know how I got through it?” Lottie nodded quickly.

“I got through it by letting people talk to me. When you lose someone so close to you, you feel hurt, betrayed, like they abandoned you. Your first instinct is to close yourself off to the world and stop letting people in, so you won’t get hurt. This is actually the  _worst_  way to heal. I only started getting better and becoming  _happy_  again when I stopped fighting everything and everyone around me. You are actually very lucky. The only person I really had to help me at that time was my best friend, Niall. My mum was busy with her marriage, though if something happened I could always have gone to her, and my sister was off at Uni. Your older brother is doing his very  _best_  to be there for all of you, to make sure you’re all safe, and happy, and healthy. I’m not saying you need to stop grieving—that’s something that takes time, you’ll get there eventually. I’m just saying that, instead of spending all your time up here in your room, you spend a little more time with Louis, or your sisters. They are having similar feelings to what you are, and of everyone in the world, Louis is probably the closest to understanding what you’re going through. He may not show it as much, but I  _know_  he’s sad, and he misses them. He just feels like he has to be strong for you. I think it’d be good for you guys to work through this  _together_. Do you think you could try that?” Lottie sniffled a bit and nodded. Harry smiled, and patted her knee once more before standing up and pulling her to her feet.

“Come on, then. Let’s go see how your brother’s doing, yeah?” Together, they returned to the living room, where Louis was waiting with Zayn and Liam, dinner having been finished and cleaned up. He looked up, concern written all over his face as Harry and Lottie entered the room. Lottie let go of Harry, running over to her brother and climbing on his lap, much like she had when she was much younger. She clung to him, whispering apologies into his neck. He just held her, rubbing her back and telling her it was okay. Everything was going to be okay.


	4. Chapter 4

After that dinner, Harry started attending Saturday night dinner every week. Then, after he’d stayed at Louis’ very late one Saturday, after dinner, and ended up spending the night, he started hanging around on Sundays, as well. Louis and Harry grew impossibly close, spending more time together than ever. The girls  _adored_  Harry, which gave him all the more reason to come over. On Fridays, Harry would take Daisy and Phoebe home with him, after daycare, and the Louis would come by with the other three when they got home from school. Louis was particularly fond of this arrangement, as it allowed him to work a little over time, and gave the girls a change of scenery.

October came and went, taking with it November and a good chunk over December. Louis and the girls had begun to consider Harry family, him being the first one they’d run to with problems or advice—particularly Lottie, who found Harry impossibly easy to talk to, and very similar to her dad. She sought him out for things she couldn’t bring to Louis, and their relationship grew to be that of a father and daughter, though no one would classify it a such—that would mean acknowledging the strange dynamic between Harry and Louis, who were struggling to ignore the feelings that continued to grow with each passing day. But no, Harry was straight, and Louis—well, Louis  _was not_  in love with his best friend.

*~*~*~*

“Hello?”

“I need a favor.” Louis’ voice sounded stressed and frantic on the other end of the line.

“What’s wrong?” Harry heard Louis sigh, his breath fogging up the line for a moment.

“I just got a call from Lottie’s school, she got in trouble, and they want me to go pick her up, but I’m at work and I really can’t leave—it could cost me my job. D’you think you could go get her for me?” Louis’ voice was pleading, and Harry really couldn’t say no to him, anyway.

“Of course, it’s not a problem. Can you give me the address”

“Sure. Have you got a pen?” Harry grabbed one out of the drawer, taking out a piece of crumpled notebook paper, as well. He scribble down the address as Louis gave directions.

“Seems easy enough. What do I say to the headmaster?”

“Just say you’re a friend of her brother’s, and you’re there because he couldn’t get out of work. I really can’t thank you enough for this, Harry.” Harry flushed a bit.

“It’s really no problem. I’m glad I could be of help,” he stuttered into the receiver. Louis sighed again.

“Well, thank you anyway. Listen, I gotta go back to work, but do you think you can bring her back to your house and I’ll pick her up after my shift? I know I’m asking a lot, but—”

“Lou, it’s not an issue! If you try to thank me  _one_  more time, I’ll smack you when I see you. Go back to work, we’ll be here later.”

“I’m really grateful for this, Harry. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye Lou.”

“Bye Haz.”

After he heard the line go dead, Harry grabbed his keys and his wallet, shoving them in his pocket as he left the house. The drive to the school was quiet—it was the middle of the day, do there weren’t many cars on the road. He gripped the wheel tightly, nerves tightening his shoulders uncomfortably. He’d had plenty of parent-teacher meetings before—it came with the territory—but never from the  _parent’s_  end. Not that he considered himself Lottie’s  _parent_ , but… The headmaster would want to talk to him about what had happened, because he’d have to report back to Louis.

He threw the car into park, shutting off the ignition with trembling hands. He climbed the steps to the school, pushing the door open and entering the office, then leaned his elbows on the counter, peering awkwardly down at the receptionist.

“Hi, I’m here for Lottie Tomlinson?” He said quietly. The woman looked up at him kindly and pointed to a frosted, glass door tucked into the hallway behind her.

“She’s in the headmaster’s office, just there.” He nodded and smiled at her, muttering a ‘thank you’ as he pushed away from the counter and went over to the door. He knocked on the glass, the noise sounding sharp to his ears. As he entered, Lottie looked up, her shoulders sagging with relief at the sight of him.

“Harry!” She exclaimed as she jumped out of her seat to embrace him.

He caught her up in his arms, happy that she was excited to see him. Keeping an arm wrapped around her, he gently guided her back to her seat, before shaking the headmaster’s hand.

“Please, have a seat, Mr. Tomlinson, we need to discuss your daughter’s behavior,” he said, taking his seat behind the desk. Harry frowned, suddenly feeling awkward.

“My name’s actually Styles—Harry Styles. I’m a friend of her brother’s.” The headmaster raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. I had assumed you were his partner.” Harry glared at Lottie when she snorted at the headmaster’s comment.

“No, he just couldn’t get off work, that’s why I’m here. Which, as I’m sure Lottie realizes, is very lucky for her. Louis is  _not_  happy with you, young lady,” Harry said, looking at her sternly. The headmaster adjusted his glasses as Lottie shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“Which is what we’re here to talk about. Some things were said, and Lottie punched a boy in her class.” Harry’s eyebrow flew up.

“What was said?” Lottie looked at Harry, her face crumpled sadly.

“You know how we had to write that poem for English class? About our hero?” Harry nodded. Lottie took a shuddering breath before beginning again. “Well, I wrote mine about Louis, because he does so much, and he doesn’t ever show his sadness. He took that job waiting because it was best for  _us_ , even if he doesn’t like it. So, when Hank called him a loser, after I shared mine, and then continued to say that it was my parents’ fault they died. I couldn’t just let him say that. So I fattened his face, to match the rest of his body,” She shrugged, and Harry had the overwhelming urge to congratulate her. He quickly squashed this pride—it wasn’t appropriate and the least he could do was wait until they were in the car to congratulate her.

“Which is why, I am afraid, we must suspend her. Hank has been suspended as well, for instigating, but I’m afraid she’ll be suspended longer, as her actions were much more serious, and we have a zero tolerance no violence policy. She’ll have three days of out-of-school suspension, which will be followed by two days of in-school suspension. She will not be permitted to make up any work she misses during her OSS, other than exams. She will do other school work during her ISS. Do you have any questions, Mr. Styles?” Harry sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“No, I don’t think so. If Louis does, can he just call the school, or is there a special number I need to give him?”

“No, he can just call the school. Have a good day, Mr. Styles.”

“And you, sir.” The two men shook hands. Harry bent and picked up Lottie’s bag off the floor, preceding her out of the office. She kept her head bowed, and her mouth shut. Harry was startled when her hand slipped into his, but he gripped it back, giving her a reassuring squeeze. They clambered into Harry’s car, Lottie’s backpack in the back seat. Harry looked over at her.

  
“As angry as Louis’ going to be, I have to admit that I’m pretty proud of you for putting that kid in his place. Don’t tell Lou I said that, though. He’ll have my head.” Lottie giggled from the passenger’s side.

“You’re such a bad husband, undermining your husband’s authority like that.” Butterflies erupted in Harry’s stomach, his cheeks heating up quickly. He groaned.

“Not you as well! Why does everyone assume we’re  _married,_  or something?” Lottie shrugged.

“You can’t really blame them. It’s natural to assume you’re my dad when you show up to my school for a parent-teacher meeting. After that, considering that the headmaster is aware of my situation, it’s not a far jump to assume you’re married to my brother,” her tone was reasonable, yet smug. Harry nodded awkwardly.

“I guess… But it’s not  _just_  him, you know. My mum had thought we were dating at first, as well, and she’s never even met Louis! I was talking to her the other day, and she asked how my boyfriend was. I was confused, of course, and she clarified that she was talking about Louis,” Harry decided not to mention the warmth he’d felt in his belly when his mother had said that, “I’m straight! I thought she knew that.” Lottie gave him a look.

“Or maybe she knows you  _aren’t_.”

“Wh—what? What do you mean by that?” He spluttered nervously.

“Mothers know best, is all I’m saying. My mom knew about Louis before he did, too,” she mentioned casually. Harry’s heart stopped for a brief moment.

“Louis’  _gay_?” He asked, feeling giddy all of a sudden. Lottie looked at him with wide eyes.

“He didn’t  _tell_  you?” Harry shook his head. “Oh. I thought he would have—you guys are so close. It’s… It’s not a problem, is it?”

“No! No, not at  _all_ , I don’t—I mean, I’m not—I… I love Louis, him being  _gay_  doesn’t change that.” Harry’s face heated up as Lottie gave him a knowing look.

“How far does that love extend?” Harry looked surprised—it wasn’t a question he had expected. Lottie raised an eyebrow when he took too long to answer. “For instance: if he got a boyfriend, would you be okay with that?”

Harry gripped the steering wheel tightly, anger settling into his bones.  _No_ , he thought,  _that most certainly would_ not  _be okay._  Lottie eyed him carefully.

“Are you mad about the boyfriend, or is it the thought of  _Louis_ having the boyfriend?”

“ _Louis_ ,” He growled out. Lottie smirked.  
  


“And why does the thought of Louis getting a boyfriend make you so mad?”

He’s not really thinking as he says it, the inexplicable anger still clouding his brain.

“Because he’s  _mine_ , dammit.” He ignores Lottie’s smug little smirk as he pulls sharply into the drive. In the back of his brain, he thinks faintly how he doesn’t really remember driving back. He glances over at her as he unbuckles his seat belt, her knowing smirk shocking him out of his fury. His mind ran over the conversation, the blood rising in his cheeks as he realized what he had just insinuated.

“He’s my  _best friend_ , I mean. I didn’t mean ‘mine’ in the sense that I wanna grow old with him, I meant ‘mine’ in the sense that I don’t want to be replaced—as his friend,” he explained hurriedly. Lottie was still smirking.

“Would you stop with the look?!  _I’m_   _not in love with Louis!_ ” He shouted. “I’m straight, I like girls, and I’m not in love with Louis.” Lottie giggled.

“A bit defensive, aren’t we?” She snickered.

“No,” he ground out, “I’m not being defensive. I’m being  _truthful_.”

Lottie raised an eyebrow.

“Somehow, I doubt that,” she muttered. Harry glowered at her.

“Look, let’s just drop it, okay? Do you like hot chocolate? I could make you some.” Lottie rolled her eyes at his obstinacy, but smiled nonetheless.

“What kind of girl do you know that doesn’t like hot chocolate?” Harry grinned at her.

“Come on then. I also want to hear more about this Hank situation.” Lottie swallowed nervously, but nodded anyway—she owed it to him. They clambered out of the car, entering the house and making hot chocolate to talk over.

*~*~*

When Louis knocked on the door, it was around four in the afternoon. Louis looked at Harry apprehensively as he took his hand and lead him into the kitchen, sitting him down at the breakfast bar. Harry hadn’t let go of his hand once they had seated themselves, giving it a squeeze.

“Where’s Lottie?” Louis asked warily. Harry smiled gently.

“She’s fine, she’s upstairs, having a bit of a kip. She was dead tired; she’s had an emotionally draining day,” he explained. Louis sighed, dropping his head and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“So, what’s the damage?” He rasped quietly. Harry squeezed his hand again.

“She’s been suspended,” he said, equally softly. Louis’ head shot up, shock and anger leaking into his facial expression.

“ _What?!”_

“It’s not entirely her fault, Lou, and honestly, you can’t be  _too_  angry with her, not once you hear what happened,” he intoned gently, “this boy in her class said something about you being a loser and it being your parents’ fault they died. Honestly, any kid would have punched him had they been in her situation. Especially considering he said this in response to her poem about her hero. She wrote about  _you,_  Lou. She’s very grateful for everything you do for her and the girls, and she loves you dearly.”

Louis’ head dropped again, but not in anger or exasperation this time. Harry was shocked as Louis’ shoulder’s began to shake, pulling his hand out of Harry’s to cover his face.  _Damn_ , he’d been trying  _so hard_  not to cry. He’d held off for four months, and now it was all coming out. He let out a startled sob as he felt arms wrap themselves around him, stiffening a moment before relaxing again, clinging tightly to his friend’s broad shoulders, pressing his face into Harry’s neck. The smell of cologne washed over him, comforting him. Surprisingly, it was Harry burying his face into Louis’ hair and whispering comforting nonsense in his ear that brought Louis’ sobbing back, full force. His fingers dug into Harry’s shirt, as he wailed like a child into his friend’s neck. It was like a dam breaking, the tears flowing freely, without him having any control over it. The grief he had kept captive in his rib cage for so long had finally broken free of its confines.

It was like a monster—all sharp teeth and long claws—and he was  _sure_  that, without Harry’s arms around his waist and Harry’s voice in his ear, the monster would have torn him apart from the inside out. It gnawed on his heart and scratched at his liver; enough to hurt, enough to release the tension, but not enough to leave any lasting damage. Harry was the shackles on the monster’s arms and neck, keeping it contained, but letting it do what it needed to do.

Louis felt Harry press a kiss to his hair, the action making the monster purr and shrink back. Harry’s hands rubbed circles into Louis’ back, the caress soothing the monster’s distress, making it sleepy.  _“You’re okay, Lou,”_  Harry whispered,  _“I’ve got you”._  The monster yawned, curling back up in his chest to wait until the next thing set him off.

Louis pulled back, sniffling and rubbing his eyes. Harry was struck for a moment by how childlike he looked. His heart stuttered—Louis was much more broken than he’d thought. The thought aroused something protective to burst in his chest, and he reached for his friend again, needing to hold onto him. He refrained from pulling him back in, instead resting his hands on Louis’ forearms, rubbing gently, the heat searing into his palms.

“Are you alright?” Harry asked gently. Louis huffed a quiet laugh, pressing the heel of his hand into his eye.

“I will be. I just—I don’t know. I guess I’m not done grieving yet. Or I haven’t started, yet,” Louis muttered. Harry narrowed his eyes.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Harry asked slowly. Louis averted his eyes, his shoulder lifting in a half-hearted shrug.

“I’ve been too focussed on keeping the girls together—I haven’t had time to grieve for myself. Which is probably why I had that little break down,” he mumbled.

“Louis!” Harry exclaimed, “you can’t do that, it’s not healthy!”

“It’s not like I had much control over it… I had to be there for the girls, and the more the girls saw  _me_  being sad, the longer it would take for them to finish grieving,” Louis reasoned, “Besides: I don’t really know how to grieve—I always used to have my mom as my rock. Now she’s gone, I don’t really trust myself to let that kind of thing affect me—I don’t know how to handle it on my own.”

“I’ll be your rock,” Harry blurted out. He scrambled quickly to rectify what he’d said. “I mean, I’d help you through it. You  _need_  to grieve, Lou. The longer you put it off, the harder it’s going to be to come to terms with. I don’t want you killing yourself over this, when there’s a perfectly reasonable way of handling it.”

“I kind of love you, you know that?” Louis mumbled quietly. Harry grinned, leaning forward and enveloping his friend in a hug. Louis sighed, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder.

“I love you too, Boo Bear,” Harry whispered into Louis’ hair. The scent of Louis’ shampoo wafted over him, and he felt utterly at peace.

“Aw…” The two boys pulled apart looking around to see Lottie standing behind them in one of Harry’s too large shirts. She smirked sleepily at them. “You two are so cute.”

“Do you think it’s really wise to mock me right now, Lottie? As proud of you as I am for standing up for me and mom and dad, punching that boy wasn’t the way to go. You got _suspended_ , Lottie,” Louis’ hand gripped Harry’s shoulder to steady himself as he reprimanded his sister, “I can’t let that go unpunished.”

Lottie looked at the ground, fiddling with the hem of the t-shirt.

“I was just trying to be brave, like you,” she whispered. Louis’ eyes softened, and his grip on Harry slackened. He moved forward, embracing her carefully, and leaned down to drop a kiss into her hair.

“I know, my love. I know. But there’s a time and a place for it—you can’t punch people at school. I feel like I should add ‘or anywhere’ to that, but I probably would have done the same thing in your position, so I won’t. I’m gonna say no screens while you’re on OSS, but that’ll be it,” he looked down at his watch, “we’d better be going, though. We have to get Daisy and Phoebe on the way home, and I can’t be late for Flick and Georgia. Run and get dressed and we’ll head out.”

Lottie nodded, squeezing Louis’ once more before detaching herself and scampering up the stairs. Louis turned back around, walking back over to Harry, who opened his arms. Louis gladly fell into them, looking exhausted.

“That went better than expected,” Harry said. Louis huffed a laugh into his neck.

“Yeah, much better. I expected tears and yelling, and probably some door slamming,” Louis sighed, turning his face more into Harry’s neck, “I think you probably averted the tantrum. If I had picked her up, then there  _certainly_  would have been a blow up. I can’t thank you enough, for everything. You’re practically part of the family, now.”

Harry’s cheeks heated up, a smile stretching across his mouth.

“You guys are practically mine, too. I love you, Lou,” he murmured. He felt Louis grin into his neck.

“I love you too, Hazza,” he mumbled.

*~*~*~*

After Louis and Lottie had left, Harry’d settled down with a blanket and a book on the couch. As weird as it might be, he already missed them. His house had begun to feel strangely empty in the last few months—right around when he met Louis.

God, he loved that boy. Not in a romantic way—he  _was_  straight, dammit—just in a “you’re-my-best-friend-I’ve-never-met-anyone-like-you” kind of way. Louis just had this way about him that made Harry feel happy and protective. It was a strange combination of feelings, he knew, but he still couldn’t help the feeling that Louis needed looking after.

Harry wanted to be the one to look after him.

That wasn’t weird, was it? People looked after their best friends. It happened.

 _Not in the way you want it to, though_ , his mind whispered.  _You wanna hold him, and kiss him, and love him, and marry him,_  the voice sang. It sounded suspiciously like Lottie, in there. Which is why he shouldn’t pay any attention to it. He didn’t need love advice from a ten year old, no matter how much he loved her.

He was getting distracted, he’d sat down to  _read_ , and now what was he doing? Thinking about Louis. Everything was about Louis, these days.

He jumped as his mobile rang, on the coffee table next to him.  _Boo Bear_ , the caller ID read. He smiled a bit, answering the phone with a “Hey there!”.

“Ha—Harry?” Lottie’s voice shook on the other end of the line. Harry sat up, swinging his legs onto the floor.

“Lottie? Is everything okay?” He asked frantically.

“N—No. We got in an accident. Lou—Louis’ unconscious. The man called the ambu—lance, but I—I’m scared,” her voice broke as she sobbed, “what if he doesn’t wake up? What if they don’t get here in ti—ime?”

Harry’s heart stopped, breaking into a million little pieces. His brain was yelling that Louis was unconscious, Lottie was in trouble—he needed to get going. Lottie hiccoughed, the sound breaking up the line for a moment, and jolting Harry into action. He stood up, moving towards the door.

“Are you alright? Did you get hurt? How are you getting to the hospital?” He asked, in quick succession. The line clouded as Lottie took a shuddering breath.

“I—I think I’m okay. I was going to go in the ambulance—I can’t leave Louis,” her voice broke on her brother’s name. Harry grabbed his keys, throwing his shoes on with one hand.

“Which hospital is it?”

“Saint—Saint Mary’s,” she whimpered. Harry slammed the front door behind him, running down the steps and launching himself into the driver’s seat, jamming the keys into the ignition and throwing his seatbelt on.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can, love, but I’ve got to hang up the phone so I don’t crash,” Lottie whimpered as he said this, “I know, lovely, I know. Hang in there, you’re a strong girl, and Louis a very strong man. He’ll pull through.”

“Okay—Okay, just  _please_  hurry, Daddy,” Lottie blubbered into the receiver. Harry’s heart melted, tears pricking the back of his eyes.

“I am, my love, I’ll be there before you know it,” he whispered. She mumbled out a “bye” which he answered, and they hung up the phone, Harry driving off the Saint Mary’s Hospital.


	5. Chapter 5

When Harry entered the waiting room at Saint Mary’s Hospital, he was met by a sobbing Lottie. She gripped him hard, wailing into his chest like a baby. He clutched her back, bending down and, with some effort, lifted her into his arms. She howled into his neck as he rubbed her back, whispering sweet things into her ear. She cried herself hoarse, sobbing and shrieking, and generally making a lot of noise. Harry’s shirt was soaked through around the neckline, when, about ten minutes later, she fell asleep, mid wail.

He shifted her slightly in his arms, her ten-year-old frame awkward to hold. Carefully, he moved to the benches, laying her down on one and covering her with his jacket, before moving over to the nurses.

“I’m here for Louis Tomlinson?” He asked nervously. One of the nurses stepped forward, her bright red hair in a knot on the top of her head.

“Are you kin?” She asked.

“I—yes. Yes, I am,” he said, butterflies erupting in his stomach. She gave him a once over, before sighing.

“I’m afraid you can’t see him just yet—he’s in surgery. We’ll let you know when something changes, but for now you’d be advised to wait here. If the little one needs anything, don’t hesitate to ask,” she intoned kindly, “poor thing was a wreck—kept asking for her daddy. I don’t think she would have been able to last much longer without you.”

He gave her an awkward smile, muttering his thanks before going back over to the bench where Lottie was fast asleep. He gently lifted her head up, placing it in his lap and smoothing her hair. Her pocket started buzzing, so he leaned over and retrieved Louis’ phone from inside it.  _Caroline_ , read the caller ID. Harry frowned.

“Hello?” He answered.

“Mr Styles?” Caroline’s voice was confused, “Why are you answering Louis’ phone?”

“I’m at the hospital—he got in a car accident, so I really can’t talk right now,” he responded hurriedly.  
  


“Oh my goodness! Is he okay? I came over to his house to drop off Daisy and Phoebe, because they’ve been over mine all day, and found his two other sisters on the step,” she explained quickly, “Is there anything I can do to help? Do you need me to bring them down there?”

“Actually, if you could that’d be a  _huge_  help,” Harry breathed a sigh of relief, “I’ve got Lottie here with me, and I don’t want to leave in case something happens to Louis. Just… Tell Flick and Georgia they’re coming to see ‘Harry’. I’m at Saint Mary’s.”

A gush of air on the other end of the line signaled Caroline’s sigh.

“Of course,” she replied, “I’ll see you in a bit then, Mr Styles.”

*~*~*~*

Harry hadn’t even realized he’d been dozing until the tell-tale chattering of the twins woke him up. His left hand was numb from holding his head up, and he had lost the feeling in his leg around where Lottie’s head was resting.

Georgia was the first to see him, her scared eyes meeting his from the doorway to the waiting room, before she bolted over. He reached down to her when she arrived in front of him, carefully maneuvering her so that she was curled into his chest, but her legs didn’t hit Lottie’s head. She clutched at him, whimpering into his neck.

“Mummy and Daddy died in a hospital,” she whispered, “the waiting room looked just like this. And Louis left us out here with a nurse while he went in to see them. He came back crying. Please don’t come back crying.”

Harry’s heart broke as these words were spoken into his neck. These girls had already lost their parents—were they really about to lose their brother, too?

Flick came around to his left, her cheeks wet with tears, and clutched at his left hand. He gave her a squeeze, not knowing what else to do for these girls. Caroline walked closer, Daisy and Phoebe having quieted when they saw how sad the rest of them were, the two of them running over and clinging to Harry’s legs. Caroline pulled her cardigan closer around her.

“Have you got any news, Mr Styles? Is Louis going to be okay?”

“Could you call me ‘Harry’? I don’t have the energy to be ‘Mr Styles’ right now. And no, I don’t know. I don’t have any news yet,” he mumbled bitterly. Caroline nodded, shifting nervously.

“Do you mind me asking how the girls know you? It’s just… You all seem really close,” she trailed off apprehensively.

“No, it’s fine. Louis and I are really close; I’m over his house a lot. I look after Daisy and Phoebe on Fridays, and Lou brings the rest of the girls over when they get home from school,” he shifted Georgia a bit, so that her knee wasn’t resting on his crotch, “They’re practically family, at this point.”

Harry’s eyes drifted behind Caroline, noticing a doctor coming over to talk with the red haired nurse. She glanced over at him, then back at the doctor, before nodding at something he said. The doctor walked away, back through the double doors which he had entered, and she made her way over to the pile of girls under which Harry was buried.

“Sir?” He sat forward, jostling Georgia a bit.

“Can I speak with you in private? I don’t know that it’d be wise to discuss your husband’s condition in front of the little ones,” she whispered the last bit, though Flick and Caroline heard it was well. Harry sighed, nodding, before carefully putting Georgia on the floor and moving Lottie’s head, before standing up. The twins whimpered, still clinging to his legs, and Flick and Georgia tried to block his path. Harry looked helplessly at Caroline, who knelt down and gently detached the twins from his legs, and moved Flick and Georgia to sit with her on the benches. Harry turned around once more, telling them it’d be fine, and he’d be back soon, before following the red haired nurse. She picked up a clipboard, reading off it with a somber expression.

“Louis Tomlinson, yeah?” Harry nodded. “Well, Mr Tomlinson, your husband’s going to be okay, although he’ll be quite out of it for a while. He brained himself on the window of the car, just before it shattered, so he’s got a bit of a concussion, and he got quite a nice sized chunk of glass in his right arm, as well, which we’ve removed and stitched up. He won’t be able to use it for a while, the glass was in pretty deep, broke the bone—he was lucky though: it nearly pierced the artery. We’ll change the dressing and stitches tomorrow morning, and put a cast on, which’ll have to be on for about four weeks, then that cast will come off, and so will the stitches. After that we’ll go from there—sometimes things like this heal really well the first time around, but others aren’t so lucky. He’s conscious now, if you’d like to see him—I’m afraid we can’t let the whole family in at once, and it’d be best for you to speak to him first, then you can bring the little ones in one or two at a time. Would you like to see him?”

Harry nodded frantically, hope and relief making him unable to speak. He followed the redheaded nurse through the double doors, down a long, white corridor with many windows and doors, up the elevator to the third floor, then down another long corridor to a glass, sliding door, which opened automatically when they stepped in front of it.

There, on the bed, with a stark white bandage wrapped around his head, sat Louis, looking entirely unimpressed with his hospital gown and his surroundings. His face lit up, however, the minute he caught sight of Harry. Relief rushed through Harry’s veins, flooding his conscious, and rendering him unable to do anything but stare at his friend, once he had made his way to the head of the bed. Louis looked up at him, his smile dwindling with nervousness with each passing second. After a minute, he couldn’t stand it anymore, reaching out to touch Harry’s arm gently.

“Harry?” he whispered. Harry continued to stare down at him for a moment, before hitting him on the shoulder. “Ow!” Louis cried, “What was that for?”

“ _That_  was for making me think you were  _dead_!  _God_ , Lou, don’t scare me like that, ever again,” Harry answered angrily. His whole face changed in a split second, going from angry to devastated. “I thought you had  _died_ , Lou.”

Louis’ face softened, and he wrapped his hand around Harry’s wrist, pulling him down into a hug. Harry melted into his embrace, his hips falling from their awkward upright position to sit on the bed next to Louis. Harry blinked, the burning in the back of his eyes making itself more known.  _No,_  he thought,  _I_ promised  _myself I wouldn’t cry. God, Styles, you’re such a pussy._  But the prickling wasn’t going away, so he wrapped his arms tighter around his friend and buried his face in his neck.

He tried, he really did, but the thoughts wouldn’t leave him alone. Here was his  _perfect_ friend, with stitches in his arm and a bandage around his head and today, Harry had almost _lost_  him. Almost lost  _him_  and his hugs, and his smile, and his laugh, and his wacky sense of style, and his obsession with carrots, and  _God_ , was this what it felt like to have your heart cut out of your chest?

“You’re my  _best friend_ ,” he sobbed, “you  _can’t_ leave me.”

Louis said nothing, instead he just rubbed his friend’s back, rocking him back and forth. Eventually, Harry calmed down enough to roll over, cuddling into Louis on the bed, his head resting on Louis’ shoulder. Louis stroked his hair, much like Harry had been doing for Lottie not a half hour earlier. He looked up at his friend, still unable to fathom that he could have lost him tonight.

“Haz?” Louis said, for some reason feeling the need to whisper, “What happened?”

“Well,” he started, taking a shuddering breath, “I got a call from Lottie, not long after you’d left, and she was in a right state. She told me that you’d gotten in an accident, and that an ambulance was taking you to Saint Mary’s—where you are now, in case you were wondering—and so I came down. When I got here, she—honestly, Lou, I’ve never  _seen_  someone so distraught before. She was a mess, and she literally cried herself to sleep—she just conked out in the middle of crying. And then they wouldn’t let me see you, because you were in surgery or something. So I was waiting with Lottie when Caroline called, and she brought the rest of the girls down, so she’s in there with them. The nurse told me I couldn’t bring them all in at once, because it’d be too overwhelming. She thinks we’re married, by the way.”

“What do you mean, she thinks we’re married?” Louis’ eyebrows shot up. Harry smiled sheepishly.

“I told her I was your kin, so she’d let me see you, and everything. She made the jump to ‘husband’ because Lottie was asking for her daddy and freaking out in the waiting room, and only stopped when I got there,” Harry shrugged, “I didn’t actually say we were married or that I was Lottie’s dad. Circumstance planted the assumption in her head.”

Louis snorted. “Of course it did. Circumstance has been doing that a lot lately, hasn’t it?”

Louis’ amused gaze bore down into Harry’s, the two of them laughing silently at themselves. They were interrupted, however, by the redheaded nurse coming in, a frazzled look on her face.

“Excuse me, Mr Tomlinson, your daughter is awake and she’s er… Asking for you,” she said awkwardly. Harry sat up with a sigh, extracting himself from Louis’ embrace, somewhat reluctantly.

“I’d better go see to it then. I’ll be back in a bit,” he replied wearily. He looked back at Louis, and, almost as an after thought, bent down, giving Louis a kiss on the cheek. “Try not to get in anymore trouble while I’m gone, yeah?”

Louis poked his tongue out cheekily, and Harry winked in reply before following the red haired nurse out of the room and back down the corridors. When they were in the lift, she smiled a bit, leaning over to whisper in Harry’s ear.

“You two are  _so_  cute. And you’ve got the cutest little girls, too—real daddy’s girls,” she said, grinning broadly. Harry didn’t really know what to say to that, so he just smiled and nodded, muttering a ‘thank you’, so as not to be rude, though the whole situation was rather awkward.

They entered the waiting room, Harry automatically zeroing in on Lottie, who was indeed throwing a fit. His heart fluttered, and his stomach dropped.

“ _No_ ,” she was yelling at Caroline, “I don’t  _want_  you. I  _want_  my dad.  _Now_.”

Harry walked over to her, gently touching her shoulder. She whipped around, her face lighting up in relief as she saw Harry, throwing herself at him. He stumbled back a few steps, wrapping his arms around her as she wrapped hers around his middle. He bent down to drop a kiss into her hair.

“Alright, love?” he murmured. She pressed her face further into his chest, nodding and making a small ‘mmhmm’ in the back of her throat. He looked up to see Caroline giving him an odd look, catching her eye, and shaking his head as if to say ‘not now’. “Do you want to go see Louis?”

Lottie’s head shot up, tears welling up in her eyes.

“He’s okay?” she rasped.

“He’s okay,” he answered, a soft smile on his face, “a bit banged up, but he’s okay.”

Lottie nodded, looking unbelievably relieved. Harry smiled at her, taking her hand in his and tugging her toward the doors.

“Come on, then. Let’s go see how he’s doing.”

“Girls, slow down, I have to open the door!” Harry shouted as Lottie and Flick raced towards the door. He unbuckled Daisy, Phoebe, and Georgia, before locking the car and following the girls over to the door. They all bolted inside once he’d unlocked it, scattering to their respective areas.

Harry and Louis had agreed that Harry would stay at Louis’ house while Louis was on the mend, to take care of him  _and_  the girls. Harry had also suggested he invite his mum down for a little while—a week, tops—to look after Louis while Harry was at work. Louis had reluctantly agreed, after Harry had mentioned that he’d be all alone in the house during the day—he, Zayn, and Liam would all be working, and the girls would be at school—and that apart from that being unsafe, Louis would be freaking  _bored_. Besides, Harry’s mum had been  _dying_  to meet him. Louis had helpfully pointed out, after agreeing, that if Harry’s mum was to be staying with them, then he and Harry would have to share a room for the time being. This did nothing to help Harry deny his ever growing feelings for the other man, but he had shrugged it off as nonchalantly as he could. And no, he  _hadn’t_  blushed, so stop looking at him like that.

It was now about eight o’clock in the evening, the little mismatched family having made excellent time home from the hospital. The girls had reacted surprisingly well to seeing their older brother in a hospital bed, understanding that Louis was okay now, and he’d get better relatively quickly. What had actually taken the most time out of them getting out of the hospital, was  _Harry’s_  reluctance to leave Louis. Caroline had gone home, because her family had needed her, so the girls had sat around Louis’ hospital room, bored expressions plastered on all but two of their faces, as Harry and Louis had chatted at each other for the better part of two hours.

Lottie had come over to them, saying “I hate to interrupt the lovefest, but we’re getting hungry, so… Can we go?”, to which Harry had looked at her with reluctance etched into his handsome face. She’d rolled her eyes, saying, “come on, dad, we’ll see him tomorrow!”. Louis had grinned cheekily at Harry’s red face, still not getting over her new habit of calling him “dad”. Harry had reluctantly agreed, the rest of the girls coming over to kiss Louis’ cheek and tell him goodbye. Lottie, did the same, hugging her brother tightly, and whispering an “I love you” into his ear. Harry had edged toward the bed nervously, not really sure how he should say goodbye to his friend. Louis had rolled his eyes at Harry’s shyness, grabbing his hand and yanking him down into a hug, which Harry had relaxed into immediately. Louis had leaned up and planted a smooch on his cheek, whispering “thank you” and “I love you” into Harry’s skin. Harry had shivered, his face suddenly too hot, and his stomach fluttering as his heart pounded relentlessly against his ribs. He had realized, belatedly, that Louis had  _not_  meant it in the way he had wanted him to, and echoed the statement into Louis’ ear, trying to keep the edge of disappointment out of his voice.

They had left, then, and Harry had somehow managed to pack the girls, and their car seats, into his car. He had driven to Louis’ house, idly listening to the girls chat in the back, and pointedly ignoring Lottie’s smirk.

He had made pasta for dinner, as that was easy and quick, and he really hadn’t had the energy to be cooking anything that would take longer. The girls had eaten it happily, chatting about what it would be like having Harry, Louis,  _and_  Harry’s mum there. They had then been sent to get ready for bed, Harry helping Daisy and Phoebe into their pajamas, and supervising as they brushed their teeth. He had tucked them in, reading them a bit of a story (“You have to do the _voices_ , Daddy, like Louis does.”), and kissing their foreheads, before going to put Georgia down.

Harry had been exhausted after reassuring Flick that Louis  _wouldn’t_  die that night in his sleep, and that she’d see him tomorrow afternoon. He had shut her door with a sigh, leaning his forehead against it briefly as he collected himself, before going in to check on Lottie.

He had lain with her for close to a half hour, singing and whispering calming things to her to get her to sleep. She had been shaken up badly by the accident—more so by Louis’ injuries, than the crash itself—though she hadn’t shown it in the car on the way home. She had understood that her expressing herself, in that instance, would not have made anything any better. Now, though, with none of the little ones around to react dismally to her distress, she sought comfort—and Harry was the only one she wanted it from, apart from Louis.

He had later disentangled himself from her slack body, carefully shutting the door behind him, and trudging exhaustedly downstairs to the couch, where he’d called his mum, and then promptly fallen asleep.

*~*~*~*

The next morning, Harry was awake by six thirty. The couch was uncomfortable, and it was hurting his back—his early rise had nothing to do with Louis coming home,  _honestly_.

His mum was coming around ten thirty, planning to stay with the girls while Harry went to get Louis from the hospital. This would keep them out of Harry’s way, and give Louis a chance to brace himself for the excitement that would inevitably burst once he limped through the door. He hadn’t been gone for that long, but the girls had spent four months in which not a single day had gone by that they didn’t see him—and, though they didn’t show it, seeing him in that hospital bed had shaken them all.

At around seven, Daisy and Phoebe came downstairs, their blonde hair mussed from sleep. When they saw that Harry was awake, they instantly started clamoring for pancakes. He agreed easily, desperate for something—anything—to keep his mind from straying to the dangerous and scary place where his feelings for Louis resided.

Daisy and Phoebe sat themselves at the breakfast bar, chatting excitedly while Harry bustled about the kitchen making their pancakes. They mostly ignored him, until the pancakes were finished and on plates in front of them.

“Daddy?” Phoebe asked, causing Harry to start—he hadn’t realized that the other girls, bar Lottie, of course, had started calling him that. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, or not.

“Yeah, Phoeb?”

“When your mum comes down, what’ll we call her?”

“That’s a good question, love,” he answered, frowning, “I don’t really know the answer to that. You’ll have to ask her.”

“Could we call her ‘grandma’?” It was Daisy who spoke this time, “because you’re ‘daddy’, and she’s your mum. That makes her ‘grandma’, doesn’t it?” Harry paused, a bite of his own pancake halfway to his mouth.

“Daisy, you  _do_  know I’m not actually your daddy, right?” She looked at him confusedly.

“Yeah, but you’re halfway there. You love Louis, who’s  _like_  our daddy, and Louis loves you. One day, you’ll get married, and then you’ll actually be our daddy. So we can still call you that, right?” Harry choked a bit, his cheeks burning brightly as his mind went there. Yeah, it went there. Wedding—family—kissing—honeymoon—oh god stop.  _You can’t do this while they’re in the room, and Daisy’s waiting for a response. Answer her, you twat._

Harry cleared his throat, “Erm, yeah. I suppose that’ll be alright.” The twins’ beams were brilliant, apparently contented now that everything had been sorted.

After they finished their breakfasts, Harry took them upstairs to get dressed, finding Georgia awake as well, and dressing her. He then sat the three of them in front of Spongebob, Georgia with a plate of pancakes settled in front of her on the coffee table, and wandered off to set up for his mum. There was a guest bedroom in the basement, so he put clean sheets on it and tidied up, careful not to throw anything out.

This took him a surprisingly long time, and by the time he finished, it was ten o’clock. He went back upstairs to see everyone but Lottie on the couch in front of the TV, completely engrossed in Spongebob. He plated two more sets of pancakes, and heated them up, setting one down in front of Flick, before going upstairs to wake up Lottie.

He poked his head around the door, snorting when he saw her completely spread-eagle on the bed, taking up as much space she possibly could. He eased the door open, tiptoeing over to her bed, and shaking her shoulder gently.

“Lottie,” he whispered, smirking at the answering groan, “Come on, love, you need to get up. I want everyone dressed by the time my mum gets here, so up you get.”

Lottie lifted her head from where it had been buried in her arms, a sleepy glare on her face.

“I’m sleeping,” she slurred, nestling her face back into the crook of her elbow. Harry chuckled at her.

“Yes, I can see that. What, are you not excited that Louis’ coming home?”

Her head shot up, and she scrambled onto all fours, before settling back on her heels.

“Louis’s coming home? Oh yeah! He’s coming home!” she grinned, the happiness burning brightly in her eyes. Harry beamed back at her.

“Yeah, and my mum’s coming to look after you so I can go get him, so get your arse up, woman!”

She laughed, hurrying out of bed and over to her closet. Harry left the room, going back downstairs. Lottie joined them a few minutes later, accepting pancakes from Harry.

As the minutes ticked by, Harry got more and more anxious. He was ready to go—he just wanted to get Louis. When his mum, Anne, finally arrived, he introduced her to the girls, hurriedly, as he was getting antsy. When he got to Daisy, she smiled brightly, her question swimming in her eyes.

“Can we call you ‘grandma’? Daddy said we had to ask you, ‘cause he didn’t know,” she queried innocently. Anne’s eyebrows shot up, glancing over at Harry and giving him a  _we’re talking about this later_  look. He just shrugged, far too impatient to get on the road to be able to feel properly embarrassed.

“Well,” she started, slowly, “I don’t see why not. It’s fine by me.” She finished with a smile, the twins cheering a little. Harry glanced anxiously at the clock again, his mother noticing him with an exasperated look on her face.

“Harry, just go get him. You’re making me antsy, just by standing there,” she huffed at him. The grin that expanded on his lips at her words was blinding. He leaned over to kiss her cheek, before kissing each of the girls goodbye, and waltzing out the door.

*~*~*~*

The red haired nurse from yesterday greeted him with a smile.

“He’s just getting dressed, they’ll have him down in a moment, if you’d like to wait here,” she told him mildly.

He beamed back at her, practically skipping over to a seat in the waiting room.  _I should not be this excited to see him_ , he thought,  _so why am I?_  He quickly squashed the thought, not wanting to get caught up in the all too confusing place his mind had been visiting recently. He glanced up as the double doors opened, a different nurse pushing a wheel chair in front of her. In this wheel chair, sat Louis, his arm in an orange cast, his head bandaged, and his face excited. His eyes immediately sought Harry’s, both boy’s faces breaking into brilliant, identical grins. Harry stood up, bouncing over to his friend, who ignored the protests of the nurse and leapt out of the chair, into Harry’s waiting arms. They both laughed delightedly, Harry’s happiness at seeing Louis leaving a place where he could have died melding flawlessly with Louis’ excitement at getting out of the stuffy, old hospital to create a joyous sound that rang in the ears of everyone around them. They clutched at each other, reassuring themselves that they were okay, and this was really happening.

Harry pulled back, beaming into Louis’ gorgeous face. Louis smiled radiantly back at him, pushing himself up onto his toes to plant a sloppy kiss on his friend’s cheek. Harry barked another laugh.

“Come on, loony Lou. Let’s get you out of here,” Harry teased. Louis whooped, staggering slightly as he jumped out of Harry’s arms and attempted to run over to the door. Harry’s smile softened, going over and supporting him. “Slow down, tiger. Don’t hurt yourself again, please,” he told him gently. He guided Louis out to the car, bidding the nurses goodbye as they went.

*~*~*~*

They passed the car ride singing along obnoxiously to the radio, occasionally stopping to talk a bit. As they pulled up in the driveway, however, Louis began to get nervous, fidgeting, and playing with his fingers. Harry looked over at him.

“You alright, there, Lou?” he asked gently. Louis looked at him, embarrassment evident in his features.

“I’m nervous about meeting your mum,” he admitted, “What if she doesn’t like me?”

“She’ll like you,” Harry promised him, “because I like you. Just… Try not to be nervous. That’s the one thing she doesn’t like, is when people are nervous around her. She’s a fairly approachable person, so she’s not very fond of people feeling like they can’t talk to her, and say what’s on their mind.”

Louis huffed a sigh, “Alright. Let’s get this over with, then.” Harry grinned, clapping him on the back.

“That’s the spirit, mate. C’mon, then.”

They clambered out of the car, Louis doing so slightly unsteadily, but managing not to need any help. Harry hovered near him, ready to help him if he needed it. He pushed the door open, going in before Louis. The girls came barreling down the corridor, wide smiles plastered on their faces, to which Harry hastily held up his hands.

“Girls, girls—slow down. Go easy on him, yeah? He just got out of the hospital—he’s not  _quite_ one hundred percent yet,” Harry told them sternly. The girls nodded, approaching their brother with much more caution, each giving him a hug. Harry’s mum stood in the doorway, watching the scene with interest.

A smile graced her features as Harry bent down to Phoebe’s level, asking her if she’d had fun. Phoebe grinned back at him, nodding vehemently, and reaching out for a hug. Harry pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her onto his hip. She bent her head to his shoulder, a little sigh escaping her lips. Anne smiled down at Georgia as she came over and leaned up to wrap her arms around her waist. This was what she’d been wanting. A family. Grandkids. She just hoped Harry didn’t mess this up.

She observed them quietly throughout the day, noticing that Harry was quite close with the girls, as well as with Louis. They all called him “dad” or “daddy”, though as Harry explained, this was a recent development, brought on by the car crash. They spent the day lounging around the house, Harry taking Daisy, Phoebe, and Georgia to the park down the street for an hour, after they began bouncing off the walls, jostling Louis a bit too much for Harry’s liking.

Dinner was around six, the girls filling the room with excited chatter, wolfing down the food on their plates. Afterwards, Harry put on Shrek, and they all sat around the living room watching together. Georgia had curled herself into Anne’s side, laughing sleepily at the telly. Harry had lain down with his back against the armrest of the couch, Louis settling himself in between Harry’s legs, Harry’s arms wrapped around his back. Anne had watched them out of the corner of her eye the entire time, smiling as Louis buried his face into Harry’s neck, Harry’s hand automatically going up and caressing the other boy’s hair. Louis fell asleep three quarters of the way through the movie, going limp against Harry’s chest. Anne hid a smile behind her hand as her son eased himself up, shifting awkwardly until he had Louis in his arms, bridal style, and carried him out of the room—to bed, she presumed. Harry had come back a few minutes later, taking a look at the sleepy faces, and deciding to turn the movie off. There were protests all around, but everyone was exhausted from a long and exciting day. Harry carried Phoebe up the stairs, her twin attaching herself to his hand and letting him drag her lethargic body up the stairs.

Anne helped Harry put the girls down, mostly taking care of Georgia, who, after being tucked in by Anne, requested she let Harry (or “Daddy”) know that she was ready for her goodnight kiss. She smiled, going out to find Harry in the corridor, shutting the door to the twins’ room. He had gone in, giving Georgia a goodnight kiss, and whispering “sweet dreams, love” to her. Anne had gone a bit teary eyed, wondering how Harry couldn’t see how much this family loved and needed him—how much he loved and needed them. He had shut her door quietly, coming over to his mother and kissing her cheek, bidding her goodnight, before turning down the corridor into Flick’s room. Anne crept downstairs, not wanting to disturb the sleeping members of the house as she went to her room.

*~*~*~*

_Harry panted hard, the sweat beading on his neck. Cool fingers gripped his curls, the pads of the other man’s fingers burning into his skin with each tug and caress. Harry pushed him harder into the wall, his hips gyrating into the other man’s pelvis. He leant down, nipping at the man’s jaw, his teeth catching the skin, and a faint shadow of stubble scraping against his lips. The man keened, digging his hands further into Harry’s hair, his head tilted back against the wall. Harry looked up at him through his eyelashes, drinking in the feathered fringe and delicate cheek bones. The man noticed his pause, opening his eyes and looking down at Harry with the bluest eyes Harry’d ever seen._

  
  


_Louis tugged at Harry’s curls, urging him to continue his ministrations. The action tore a groan from Harry’s throat, his hips jerking and colliding more violently with Louis’ own groin, before he dropped his head into the crook of Louis’ neck._

  
  


_He pushed his nose into the skin behind Louis’ ear, the smell so sweet that he couldn’t help but poke his tongue out and taste it. Louis whined, high in the back of his throat, and Harry smirked, his tongue reappearing and licking a flat stripe behind Louis’ ear, lapping at the skin like a cat. The actions made Louis roll his hips, his eyes slipping closed, and Harry responded by lifting him against the wall, Louis’ legs automatically wrapping around Harry’s waist._

  
  


_Harry moaned, the new angle allowing him a lot more access. He shoved his groin up into Louis’ again, almost passing out at the sensations this caused. Going back to Louis’ neck, he began to suck, feeling the skin pull away from the flesh and glance off his teeth. He released, soothing the bruise with his tongue. Louis squirmed, his back arching a little bit as he bore his hips down on Harry’s. Louis craned his neck around, his lips brushing Harry’s ear._

  
  


“ _Harry,” he whispered urgently, “Harry… Harry, wake up. C’mon, Harry.”_

  
  


_That didn’t make sense. Why was Louis telling him to wake up—they were just getting to the good part._

  
  


“ _Harry… Oh, for goodness’ sake! Harry, you are not a dog, please wake up and stop humping my leg,” Louis’ voice sounded amused and exasperated, the sound jarring Harry, and_

  
  


Waking him with a start.

The first thing he noticed was that he was achingly hard. The second thing he noticed was Louis’ face peering amusedly at him. He tapped Harry on the chest.

  
  


“I think you need to go in the bathroom and—er—take care of yourself,” he smirked, “you can come back when you’re sorted.”

  
  


Harry groaned, humiliation coursing through his veins.  _God_ , he thought,  _what is the matter with you, Styles?_ He rolled out of the bed, waddling uncomfortably to the bathroom next to Louis’ room, pointedly ignoring Louis’ snickering coming from the bedroom.

  
  


He shut the door, turning the lock to make sure he wasn’t interrupted—he’d had enough embarrassment for one night.

  
  


Shoving his hands into his boxers, he groaned, trying desperately not to think about the man waiting for him in the bedroom.  _Oh, God—he’s waiting for me_ in the bedroom _. That could easily be a euphemism._ The thought tore another groan from his mouth and he quickly shucked his boxers—he didn’t much feel like having to get new ones afterwards, as that would no doubt send Louis into a fit of giggles.

  
  


He went and sat in the tub, the cool porcelain soothing his burning skin. His hands worked quickly—twisting and tugging and dragging—his breathing becoming ragged and uneven with each pull of his fingers. Louis’ face swam in his mind’s eye, at first seeing the Louis from his dream, the image sending fire through his veins and scorching his skin, before the image morphed into  _his_  Louis. The Louis that cracked a joke whenever the opportunity arose, the Louis who loved his sisters more than anything else, the Louis that was fierce and loving and _beautiful_. The Louis that told him he loved him on a daily basis. He could hear the words, whispered in his ear like a caress.  _I love you_.

  
  


It was with this thought that he came, his back arching off the ceramic bath tub, a strangled groan wrenching itself from his throat. He slumped back against the tub, his muscles lax, utter exhaustion leaking into his bones.

  
  


Looking at the wall, he groaned. He’d made a right mess, hadn’t he? He sighed, standing up and pulling the shower curtain closed, before turning the water on. Splashing a bit of water on the wall to clean up his mess, he contemplated what this could possibly mean.

  
  


There was really only was conclusion, and he was a fool for trying to deny it before. He was falling in love with his best friend.

  
  


This was absolutely not okay. He couldn’t do that. Not  _just_ because he wasn’t gay, but—quite apart from anything else—Louis was his best friend, and he needed him to keep him together, not tear him apart. Which is what falling in love with a best friend inevitably lead to—if the feelings weren’t returned, this could potentially destroy both of them.

  
  


Harry turned a little, letting the water pound into his shoulder blades. On the other hand, if the feeling  _was_  mutual—no. That was not a road he could go down—it would lead to hope, and hope lead to heartbreak.

  
  


He turned the shower knobs roughly, switching off the water, and stepping out into the bathroom. He toweled himself off quickly, before stepping back into his boxers. He unlocked the door, stumbling slightly into the darkness of the hallway, and trudged back to Louis’ room. He eased the door open, seeing Louis on the bed with his back to him. He stepped quietly, carefully avoiding the squeaky floorboard near the bed, and sidestepping all the clothes that littered the floor. He moved the covers back, sliding into the bed behind Louis. Louis mumbled a bit in his sleep, stirring a bit and rolling over, tucking his head underneath Harry’s.

  
  


“Have a good wank, love?” he murmured into Harry’s neck. Harry felt his cheeks flame with mortification. He groaned.

  
  


“You are never gonna let me live this down, are you?” he asked him. He felt Louis’ smirked brush against his jugular.

  
  


“No,” Louis snickered, “it’s far too funny. Now go to sleep. And don’t wake me up again—try to control yourself, yeah?” Harry rolled his eyes, carefully settling his arms around Louis’ waist.

  
  


“Yeah, yeah. Shut up, you loon,” he muttered.

*~*~*~*

The next morning was unbelievably awkward for Harry. Louis didn’t seem to see anything wrong with teasing him blatantly in front of everyone—including his mum. Every other sentence out of his mouth contained some kind of cleverly disguised euphemism, and Harry’s face had not gone back to its normal color.

  
  


After a painfully long breakfast, Louis announced that he was going to go take a shower, shooting Harry a wink as he sauntered out of the room. Harry’s mum, of course, had seen the exchange and pulled Harry into the kitchen.

  
  


“Mum, I have to help Daisy and Phoebe get ready for school,” he protested feebly, “We have to go in fifteen minutes.” His mum rolled her eyes.

  
  


“Harry, I think you can spare a minute to talk to your mum,” she told him sternly, “So explain to me: when did you and Louis start sleeping together?”

  
  


“Wh—what? What are you talking about?” he spluttered, “I’m not sleeping with Louis! Well, I mean, I am, but not in a sexual way.”

  
  


“Harry, something happened last night,” his mum stated, “and you’re going to tell me what it was.”

  
  


“Er…” he shifted awkwardly, “I—uh—may have… I may have had a… Er…  _Dream_  last night, and—oh, God. I can’t tell you this!”

  
  


“You had a sex dream about him, didn’t you?”

  
  


“I—no!” he exclaimed hastily, “No—I most certainly did not—okay, yeah, I did.” His mother rolled her eyes.

  
  


“God, this is so embarrassing. I dreamed that I was—you know…  _With_ him, and I, uh, started… Humping him?” His mother pressed her lips together in poorly disguised amusement, nodding for him to continue.

  
  


“Well,” he sighed, “Louis woke up. And then he woke me up. And told me to—uh— _take care of myself_ , and come back when I was ‘sorted’.”

  
  


“And so you did, you went and sorted yourself, and then you went and you got back in bed with him.”

  
  


Harry rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. He never thought he’d be talking about this with his mother. He loved her, and trusted her advice and opinion, but this was crossing a line. His mother wasn’t supposed to know that he was jerking off—ever. Just… Just no.

  
  


“Harry, I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer it honestly,” his mum looked at him carefully, “Are you in love with Louis?” Harry closed his eyes in embarrassment, sighing.

  
  


“No, but I reckon I’m getting there,” he mumbled quietly. Anne sighed, her son sounded so down about it.

  
  


“This isn’t a bad thing, Harry. You know no one will mind if you like him,” she told him gently. He looked at her defeatedly.

  
  


“That’s not true. He might. I can’t lose him, mum. I’d rather have him as a friend than not have him at all,” he whispered sadly. Her eyes softened, and she opened her mouth to tell him just what she thought of  _that_ , when Daisy came in the kitchen, holding her shoes out. Harry turned to his mum, after accepting the shoes, saying, “I’m really sorry, but I’ve got to get the girls get ready to go—they’ve got school, and I’ve got work. We’ll talk later, I promise.”

  
  


He kissed her cheek, then followed Daisy to the stairs, where Phoebe was seated. He set Daisy’s shoes down, bending over and tying Phoebe’s shoes first, before lifting Daisy up onto the stairs and tying hers. The three of them shouted goodbyes down the hallway, getting their bags and going off to school.


	6. Chapter 6

Louis stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist awkwardly, the large plastic bag on his cast arm impeding his movements. He shuffled into his room, not bothering with the towel once the door was closed, and went in search of some clothes.

  
  


After dressing and removing the damp plastic from his arm, he headed downstairs to go sit on the couch, as Harry had instructed him. He had been reluctant at first, to obey his orders, but he had been told that  _not_  abiding by the rules could set him back in his recovery, which wasn’t really an option.

  
  


Upon entering the living room, he noticed Harry’s mum sitting on the couch—waiting for him, presumably. He hadn’t really gotten the chance to meet her properly yesterday, so there was a bit of residual awkwardness curling in his stomach. He waved stiltedly with his good arm.

  
  


“Er, hey, Mrs Styles,” he greeted, wincing internally at the stiffness of it. She chuckled at him.

  
  


“Louis, we’re going to be spending quite a lot of time together in the next few days, I think it’d be good if you’d call me Anne,” she told him lightly, “Besides, my name isn’t ‘Styles’—it’s ‘Cox’. I changed it when I remarried.”

  
  


“Oh,” he managed quietly, “I’m sorry… I didn’t know.” Anne waved it off with an air of amusement.

  
  


“It’s alright, it’s not really that important. Would you like tea, Louis?” Louis looked up, startled by the abrupt change in conversation.

  
  


“Uh… Sure. Milk, no sugar, please,” he told her. She nodded, a sweet smile on her face, as she walked off to make tea. Louis remained on the couch, playing with his fingers awkwardly, as he waited for her to come back.

  
  


When she did, roughly ten minutes later, she was carrying two mugs. She handed him his, and sat beside him on the sofa, sipping her tea softly. He followed suit, peering over the rim of his mug at her curiously. She drew back, cupping the mug in her lap, and turned to Louis with a nonchalant expression.

  
  


“So, my son tells me you two are very close,” she said slyly. Louis’ face softened in a smile. Harry. This he could talk about without being awkward.

  
  


“Yeah, we are. He’s been really great recently, with everything that’s been going on, and the girls adore him,” he chuckled, “So do I, actually. I’ve never had a friend like him.”

  
  


“I should think not,” Anne muttered to herself, “You two met at the daycare, yeah?”

  
  


“Yeah, it was a bit embarrassing, actually, because I didn’t realize he was the teacher, so I asked him if he knew where the teacher was. I’m lucky he wasn’t offended by that,” he told her thoughtfully, “I honestly can’t imagine my life without him at this point.”

  
  


“And what are your intentions?” She asked conversationally. Louis choked on his tea.

  
  


“S-Sorry?” He spluttered, “My—my  _intentions_?”

  
  


“Yes,” she answered, “When are you going to propose?”

  
  


“ _Propose?_ No, no, no, no, no, no, no—I think you misunderstood,” he held up his hands as if trying to physically slow down her thoughts, “Harry and I—we’re just friends. We’re not—we’re not dating!”

  
  


“But you’re in love with him,” she told him, in a way that left no room for discussion, “I can see it in your body language.”

  
  


“What are you talking about?!” He exclaimed indignantly. “What body language?”

  
  


“Yours,” she replied, “Let’s start with yesterday, shall we? And move forward from there.” All Louis could do was nod.

  
  


“Right,” she started, “When Harry took the girls to the park yesterday, you fidgeted with your fingers and clothes, glancing towards the door every few minutes until he got back. When he did get back, you straightened your posture, and your whole face lit up. The corners of your eyes and mouth softened with he came and sat next to you, and your entire body just kind of relaxed.

“You automatically sat next to him at dinner, and even though you were cutting up Daisy’s food for her, your body was facing him, like you were trying to focus on Daisy, but your body turned by itself. You watched him quite closely throughout dinner, with this little smile on your face, your eyes all soft-gazed and happy.

“When we sat down to watch the movie, the two of you curled up together on one side of this couch—it was completely seamless, no asking or conversation involved. You just did it. And  _then_  you fell asleep in his arms. That in itself is an indicator of how you feel about him—you felt comfortable enough, and you trust him enough, to allow him to be with you in your most vulnerable state. You trusted him to take care of you, and protect you.”

  
  


“That’s because Harry  _does_  take care of me. He takes cares of all of us,” Louis told her. Anne shot him a look.

  
  


“And that’s another thing: the girls are awfully attached to Harry. What were you planning on doing when you get better, and he leaves?” She asked him. Louis looked startled at the question.

  
  


“I… I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about that,” he admitted.

  
  


“It might be something to think about, then. You’re all already in this nice little rhythm—it may already be too late to undo this. From what I’ve been told, and what I’ve observed, I don’t think the girls would take too well to Harry leaving—and I don’t think either of you would, either,” she told him gently. Louis looked at his lap, where his mug of tea was going cold.

  
  


“It’s not like he’d be that far away. The twins and I will still see him everyday at daycare, and he comes on Saturday’s for dinner, anyway. We had a ‘nice little rhythm’ going before I got hurt,” he replied, slightly indignantly. Anne tapped his knee.

  
  


“It wasn’t as nice as the one you’ve got going now, is it,” it wasn’t a question, as they both knew the answer, “I love my son, more than anything in the world, but he can be a bit difficult at times. Louis—and forgive me if this is too forward, but I think you should ask Harry to come live with you—as a permanent thing. No, no… Don’t panic,” she said hastily as Louis balked, “Hear me out. The girls obviously love Harry very, very much—that much is evident. Harry loves the girls, too—that’s also very obvious. You and Harry clearly have a…  _Unique_  friendship, and I can see that you love my son a lot—I have no doubt in my mind that he loves you just as much. I can only think of good things that would come of you living together!”

  
  


“Well, but… It could get awkward! We’re both boys, things… Things happen. To boys,” Louis said desperately. Anne snorted.

  
  


“You mean like what happened last night?” Louis paled.

  
  


“He told you?”

  
  


“Why are you embarrassed? You didn’t seem to have a problem with it this morning—in fact, you were taking great pleasure in teasing him about it!”

  
  


“I didn’t—I don’t—” Louis spluttered, before sighing, “It’s just—it’s weird that you know. It’s not something parents should know about. I mean, obviously, you know it happens in theory, but parents should never hear about that happening to their kids. It’s like a kid thinking about how his parents had to have had sex in order for them to be alive—it’s weird.” Anne laughed heartily.

  
  


“Louis, I’m going to tell you something that not even Harry knows,” she leaned forward conspiratorially, “When Harry was a teenager, I caught him  _numerous_  times—sometimes by himself, twice with a girl. Every time it happened, I just backed out quietly and shut the door. And I’d ask him to wash his hands before dinner.”

  
  


“That’s really funny, actually,” Louis chuckled, “When I got my first boyfriend, years ago, I had him over for a night—we’d been dating a few months—because my parents were at my grandparents’ with my sisters. So, naturally, I thought I could get away with it. They, ah, they came home early, ‘cause Georgia had a fever,” he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, gesturing with his hands as he spoke, “Mum heard me—you know… But she thought I was _hurt_. Oh god, it was so awkward to have her walk in on that. We weren’t—you know— _doing_ it. Just getting there. The worst part was that I hadn’t told my mum I was gay—so it was just like ‘surprise!’. I found out later that she’d known all along and was just waiting for me to tell her on my own time. I really miss her.”

  
  


He rubbed his burning eyes ruefully as Anne patted his knee. He let out a bitter laugh. “And now she’s never going to walk in on the girls when they get their first boyfriends. They’re never going to feel awkward, and guilty, at being walked in on by their mother—who thought they’d been  _hurt_. They’re never going to introduce the boyfriend to her while they’re both half naked and scrambling for their clothes,” he buried his face in his hands fully, balancing the mug between his knees, “It sounds so silly, these being the things I’m upset about! I wanted that for them. I wanted them to have that embarrassment, those awkward moments that come with being a teenager. I wanted them to have their mum  _there_ , to have a normal life. Not be stuck here with me. I’m not supposed to be their  _dad_ , Anne. I’m supposed to be their  _brother_.” He looked at her desperately, searching for something she wasn’t sure she could provide.

  
  


“I know you are, Louis. But that’s not in the cards right now. Maybe one day, when they’re all grown up, you can go back to being their big brother. But right now, they  _need_  a dad. You’re doing  _such_  a good job with them—with everything. I know you’re doing your best to give them as normal of a life as possible, and even if they don’t understand it yet, they  _will_ ,” she shuffled over, giving him a one armed hug, “And you’re not completely alone in all of this, either. I know Harry is more than happy to help you out—the fact that he hasn’t  _once_ corrected the girls when they’ve called him ‘daddy’ is proof of this. All you’ve got to do is ask him to stay. And, regardless of whether he stays or not, he and I will still be there for you—no matter what.”

  
  


“Thank you,” he mumbled, curling further into her embrace, “You hug like my mum used to.” Anne blinked, unsure how to reply to that.

  
  


“You’re welcome, Louis,” she whispered into his hair, “You’re one of the family now, it’s no problem.”

  
  


“What if Harry isn’t ready for that? What if he’s not ready for me to be a part of his family, or for him to be a part of mine?” Louis asked suddenly, after a beat of silence.

  
  


“He is, love,” Anne told him, “I know my son, and having seen him interact with you and the girls in the last few days, I can tell you, quite confidently, that he is. He’s more than ready.”

When Harry got home that day, he and the twins were greeted by the sweet smell of cookies wafting from the kitchen, loud, happy chatter following it. He helped the girls remove their shoes, then followed them as they scurried into the kitchen.

  
  


Upon entering, he noticed two things: one, the kitchen was a mess. Two, his mother and Louis were sitting at the breakfast bar, laughing and chatting like old friends over tea and freshly made biscuits. He immediately knew that Louis was the cause of the mess, as his mum was completely spotless. Louis, on the other hand, had flour in his fringe and on his clothes, and batter streaked across his face and arms. Louis’ cast, Harry noticed, had not escaped the mayhem, and was coated in flour as well.

  
  


While Harry was annoyed at the mess that  _he_  would end up having the clean, he couldn’t be angry when Louis was smiling at him like that. When Louis jumped up to greet him with his customary hug, however, Harry stopped him, holding Louis’ arms in their open position.

  
  


“Slow down there, Lou. I don’t much fancy being covered in flour,” he reached up to finger Louis’ fringe, rubbing the pale powder between his fingers as he chuckled, “How about we clean you up first. Your cast looks like you just dunked it in the flour!” Louis looked at him skeptically.

  
  


“Fine, but only if we can cuddle after,” he told him, his face lighting up as Harry snorted out a “sure”, and scampered off up the stairs—all the while yelling for Harry to hurry up.

  
  


Harry ignored his mother’s pointed smirk as he followed Louis out of the room. He found Louis in the bathroom, rummaging in the cupboard under the sink—only wearing his boxers. He glanced up at Harry as he entered the room, surfacing with a plastic bad.

  
  


“You’re gonna help me, yeah Haz?” He asked innocently. “I can’t wash my hair properly with one hand.”

  
  


“Yeah alright—what are you doing! Keep your pants on!” Harry yelped, startling Louis, who was in the process of removing his boxers. He paused, rolling his eyes at his friend.

  
  


“Come on, Harry! We’re both boys—it’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” he told him exasperatedly.

  
  


“No, Louis,” Harry said firmly. A naked Louis would cause problems for Harry that Harry really didn’t want to deal with—soaked boxer briefs were bad enough. Louis sighed, muttering a “fine” and releasing the hem of his pants. He held the plastic bag out to Harry, a petulant look on his face. Harry rolled his eyes at his immature friend, accepting the plastic bag, and tying it around the orange cast. Once the bag was secure, he walked over to the tub, turning the nozzles and forcing a stream of warm water to gush into the porcelain basin. Louis stepped into the still filling tub, circling once, like a dog, before sitting in the water. He leaned his arms on the side of the tub, gazing up at Harry with innocent eyes.

  
  


“Wanna join me?” he asked sweetly. Harry choked, his face flushing. He recovered quickly, clearing his throat to cover up his awkwardness.

  
  


“No, I—ah—think I’m just gonna stay dry,” Harry answered fumblingly. Louis glared thoughtfully at him, before reaching down into the water that had risen around his waist. Harry’s eyes widened as he realized what Louis was doing, scrambling up and hastily trying to back up. “No, Louis, no, don’t—”

  
  


He was cut off by splash of water dousing his face. He spluttered, inhaling a bit of the water. He shook his now soaked curls out of his face, flipping them over his head and wiping his eyes, opening them to see that a smirking Louis had shut off the faucet. Louis turned slightly, using his good hand to cup the water before letting it fall through his fingers again, the tinkling sound mocking Harry.

  
  


“It’s  _on_ ,” he said, looking Louis dead in the eye as tossed his soaked shirt over his head, and shucked his trousers. Louis squealed sending another wave of water towards his friend as he charged at the tub. Harry flung himself over the side, narrowly missing the wall, but still achieving his goal. An enormous splash doused them both—and the rest of the bathroom. Louis shrieked, laughing through the water dripping down his face.

  
  


He shot forward, tackling Harry back against the wall. Harry laughed heartily, gripping friend’s waist as the water sloshed over the sides. They wrestled, dousing the bathroom with water as they splashed and hit and rolled, gripping each other and sliding around the tub, raucous laughter filling the house.

  
  


Anne looked up at the ceiling as a particularly loud thump sounded, followed by some more delighted laughter. She snorted and turned back the board game she was playing with the twins. Daisy moved the red piece three spaces, then looked up at Anne.

  
  


“Grandma Anne,” she asked, “why don’t daddy and Louis kiss like normal parents?” Anne chuckled.

  
  


“They’re not normal parents, though, are they?” She asked as Phoebe rolled the dice.

  
  


“You mean because they’re both boys?” Phoebe lisped. “They love each other, don’t they? Isn’t that all that matters?”

  
  


“Well, yes, love,” Anne replied, “But Harry and Louis aren’t together.”

  
  


“Well, but— _why_?” Daisy asked petulantly, tossing her piece on the board. “They cuddle  _all_  the time!”

  
  


“And Louis never smiled properly until Harry came—even before we moved here,” Phoebe added. Daisy shot her sister a look.

  
  


“No, no! That’s not true,” Daisy told her, “it’s just his smile’s  _different_  now, yeah? Happier.” Phoebe smiled dreamily.

  
  


“Yeah… Flick and Lottie are planning their wedding,” she told Anne joyfully, which was answered with a raised eyebrow.

  
  


“Are they,” she asked curiously. Daisy and Phoebe nodded, the game forgotten. They looked up a moment, pausing in their conversation as a thump and a shout sounded from upstairs, followed by another cascade of giggles. Anne shook her head, smiling. “Well, at the rate they’re going, we’re going to need it soon.”

  
  


Daisy and Phoebe’s faces lit up, identical excitement shining in their identical faces.

  
  


“Really?” They asked in unison. Anne laughed.

  
  


“Dunno, loves. You’ll have to ask Harry when he’s going to ask Louis to marry him,” she told them, delighting in the mischievous grins that lit the twins’ normally innocent faces. “Alright, enough gossiping. Back to the game, girls.”

  
  


*~*~*~*

  
  


Lottie dropped her back pack on the ground, following Flick into the kitchen, where Anne and Georgia where making something to eat.

  
  


“Where are Dad and Lou?” She asked, stealing a biscuit off the plate. Anne gestured towards the living room.

  
  


“In there,” she said, “I think Louis’ asleep.” Lottie nodded, munching on the cookie as she went in search of her brother and his friend. She stopped dead in her tracks upon entering the living room.

  
  


Harry glanced up from his book, noticing Lottie and smiling at her.

  
  


“Hey, love,” he greeted, “How was school?” Lottie inched a bit closer, eying his wet hair.

  
  


“Fine,” she answered slowly, “Isn’t that uncomfortable?”

  
  


“Isn’t what uncomfortable?” He asked, confused. Lottie gestured towards him, and he glanced down. “Oh, no. He’s fine there—deep sleeper. Doesn’t squirm a lot, though he does mumble a bit.”

  
  


“Isn’t he heavy?” Lottie queried, peering curiously at her brother, who was sprawled across Harry’s chest, his face tucked into his friend’s neck. Harry looked back at Louis, a soft smile on his face.

  
  


“He is a bit—he’s asleep, so he’s a deadweight—but I don’t mind. He didn’t get much sleep last night, and his cast’s been bothering him,” he shifted his book a bit so it rested more lightly against Louis’ back, “and this is the first time I’ve had time to read in weeks, anyway, so that’s fine, too.”

  
  


“Why aren’t you married?” Lottie asked abruptly. Harry started, looking at her incredulously.

  
  


“Pardon?”

  
  


“Why are you not married to my brother?” Lottie clarified. Harry shot her a look.

  
  


“Because we’re not in love with each other,” he told her sternly. Lottie scoffed.

  
  


“Right, I totally believe you. It’s not like you’re cuddling him right now, or anything else romantic,” she told him sarcastically, “Look, dad, you need to just buck up the courage and ask him—before somebody else does.” With that, she flicked her hair, walking back towards the kitchen, chuckling as Harry’s indignant shouts followed her.

  
  


“I won’t have you quoting  _Harry Potter_  at me, young lady!”

  
  


*~*~*~*

  
  


A half hour later, Georgia went in search of her brother, looking for someone to take her to the play park. Her Grandma Anne had sent her to find Louis and Harry, saying it was time for Louis to wake up, anyway. She wandered into the living room, seeing her brother and Harry on the couch. Where Harry had been reading a half hour ago, he was now fast asleep, his right hand hanging off the couch, the book open, its pages curled around his fingers, his left arm wrapped tightly around Louis’ middle. Georgia sidled up to the couch, carefully removing the book from Harry’s hand and putting it down on the coffee table, face down. She then shuffled back over to where her brother and Harry were sleeping, reaching out a finger to poke Harry’s face.

  
  


“Daddy,” she whined, “daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy.” Each word punctuated by a poke to the face. Harry finally stirred, blinking blearily at her.

  
  


“Georgia?” he mumbled groggily, “What time is it?”

  
  


“Nearly five,” she answered daintily, as though she hadn’t just accosted his face. He sighed through his nose, shifting slightly under Louis’ body, wrapping his other arm around his friend, and closed his eyes once again.

  
  


“Wake us when dinner’s ready,” he slurred sleepily. Georgia frowned.

  
  


“I want to go to the park,” she told him. Harry let out another sigh.

  
  


“I’m sorry, love—I’m not awake enough,” he rumbled, “ask Grandma Anne. I’ll take you tomorrow, I promise.” Georgia huffed, but agreed nonetheless. She left, in search, once again, of her grandma.

  
  


*~*~*~*

  
  


When Harry woke up next, it was dark, and he was cold. His first instinct was to reach for Louis, who was supposed to be in bed with him. His arm hit the side of the couch, and he winced. He sat up, rubbing his eyes sleepily. His head felt fuzzy, his eyes blurring. He stood up slowly, stumbling towards the light in the kitchen. Louis looked up as Harry came in, smiling as Harry’s hands came up to shield his eyes from the light.

  
  


“Hey, sleepy,” he chuckled.

  
  


“Hey,” Harry mumbled, “Time’s it?”

  
  


“Almost nine,” Louis answered. Harry grunted, shuffling over and wrapping himself around Louis, pressing his face into his neck and sighing.

  
  


“Missed dinner, then,” he huffed, “Time’d you get up?”

  
  


“Only like a half hour ago,” he told him, “I’m making pasta, you want some?”

  
  


“Sure. Where’re mum and the girls?”

  
  


“Lottie and Anne are downstairs watching some chick flick, and your mum put down the twins and Georgia for us. Flick’s reading, upstairs,” Louis explained, stirring stiffly, trying not to jostle Harry. Harry grunted again. Louis glanced at the curls that obscured his friend’s face from his line of sight. “You falling asleep on me, Haz?” Harry groaned into Louis’ neck, and Louis laughed. “Come on, love, let’s eat this and go to bed.”

  
  


Harry sighed, standing up and stumbling over to the breakfastbar, where he dropped heavily into a seat, his head landing on the table with a light thump. Louis plated the food, chuckling, and followed Harry over, taking the seat next to him. Harry lifted his head, grippig the fork loosly in his hand, slowly bringing the food to his mouth. Louis finished his food off quickly, watching Harry eat lethargically. He rolled his eyes as his friend missed his mouth, smearing sauce across his cheek. A confused look crossed Harry’s face, not really understanding why his face was wet. That was the last straw for Louis, and he burst out laughing, Harry looking at him, even more confused. When Louis’ laughs subsided, he picked up a napkin, gripping Harry’s chin and turning it towards him so he could wipe Harry’s face.

  
  


Taking the fork from Harry’s lax hands, he brought Harry’s plate towards him.

  
  


“Open,” he comanded, offering the forkful to his friend. Harry’s jaw dropped compliantly, his eyes still half closed with exhaustion. After Harry was done chewing, he opened his mouth again, urging Louis on with a small “ah” in the back of his throat. Louis chuckled again, scraping the food onto the fork, and shoving it into Harry’s mouth.

  
  


“Come on,” Louis said when they’d finished. Harry nodded, standing up and waiting for Louis to rinse their plates, then followed him up to the bedroom. Harry fumbled with the button on his trousers, his fingers feeling fat and clumsy. He gave up, tossing his shirt over his head frustratedly, and shuffled over to the bed, where Louis was already lying. Louis gazed up at him, as if considering something. He sighed, scooting over to the side and sitting up, he reached out and grabbed the waistband of Harry’s trousers, pulling him in so he stood in front of him. Harry watched silently as Louis popped the button, undid the zipper, and yanked Harry’s trousers down so that they fell around his ankles.

  
  


Harry stepped out of his pants, climbing into bed as Louis moved back against the wall. His sleep addled brain subconsciously pushed him into Louis’ embrace, curling his arms around his waist and drawing him flush against his chest. Louis sighed contentedly, tucking his head under Harry’s chin, and curved his fingers into the indent made by Harry’s collarbone.

  
  


“Night, Haz,” he mumbled sleepily.

  
  


“Night, Lou.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Great! Yeah, no, I can’t wait! Yeah, I’ll see you soon, mate. Alright. Bye,” Harry hung up the phone with a little grin. Louis looked up from where he was reading on the couch. Harry dropped into the seat next to him, slinging his arm across the back of the sofa as an invitation. Louis shifted into his side, sighing contentedly as Harry’s arm wrapped itself around his waist.

  
  


“Who was that?” he asked him. Harry sank further into the couch, drawing Louis down a bit further.

  
  


“My friend, Niall. We went to school together, but he moved back to Ireland for work—his parents moved here from Ireland when he was twelve. But he’s got work in Manchester next week, so I told him he could stay at my house, rather than book a hotel. My house is empty now, anyways, since I’m staying here,” Harry explained, “I hope it’s okay, I invited him for Saturday night dinner.” Louis hummed in acknowledgment.

  
  


“Yep, that’s fine,” he agreed, “Who’s doing the cooking?”

  
  


“I think my mum wanted to,” Harry answered thoughtfully, “She likes cooking for people, and she doesn’t get to a lot, now that my sister and I have moved out.”

  
  


“You’d best confirm that, yeah? I don’t want any mix up,” he told his friend, glancing up from his book again to peer at him over his glasses. Harry nodded, plucking the book out of Louis’ hands, ignoring his protests.

  
  


“What’re you reading?” Harry chuckled. Louis glared at him, turning slightly to reach for his book, his hand braced on the couch—dangerously close to Harry’s groin.

  
  


“Nothing, give it back!” Louis demanded. Harry snickered, leaning away from Louis as best he could, turning the book over to see what it was. Louis yelped and smacked the inside of Harry’s elbow, causing his arm to collapse before Harry could get a good look at the title. Harry yelled, shuffling away from Louis, ending up on his back on the couch when Louis threw himself at him. “Give it back! Don’t look at it!”

  
  


Harry laughed as Louis climbed up his torso, reaching for the book that Harry held just out of reach. Louis made his way up, straddling Harry’s chest and leaning forward to grab the book. Harry’s brain stopped working when he received a faceful of Louis’ crotch. Louis’ bulge came dangerously close to Harry’s nose, and he stopped breathing, his fingers going slack. Louis’ shriek of triumph sounded above him, as the book was pulled from his grasp. Louis settled back against Harry’s chest, clutching the black book to his own. Harry’s arms came down to rest on Louis’ thighs, still on either side of his chest.

  
  


“Come on, Louis! What’s the book?” Harry whined, a little breathlessly. Louis shook his head, poking his tongue out petulantly, and made to get up. As soon as his feet hit the ground, Harry’s arm was around his hips, slinging him back onto the couch. Harry hovered over him, his arms braced on either side of Louis shoulders, his knees on either side of Louis’ hips. He gently removed Louis’ fingers from where they curled around the book, obscuring the title. Louis gazed up at him dazedly, still unsure as to how he ended up in this position. When Harry had peeled back enough fingers, he laughed out loud. “Breaking Dawn?”

  
  


“I just wanted to see what the hype was about!” Louis replied indignantly, the glazed look slowly receding from his eyes. Harry laughed hard at that, sitting back so that he sat across Louis’ hips.

  
  


“’Seeing what the hype was’ would have been reading the first book,” Harry told him through his laughter, “I think you  _like_  them, Lou! Go on, admit it!”

  
  


“Alright! Fine, I rather enjoyed them,” he said dejectedly, “I mostly just read them to see if Edward and Jacob would end up screwing in Bella’s bed to get rid of the stifling sexual tension, but I don’t think that’ll happen, now, because Jacob’s gone and imprinted on Bella and Edward’s kid.” Harry looked surprised for a moment, before he burst into another fit of laughter.

  
  


“Only you, Louis,” he chuckled affectionately. A dainty cough startled them out of their bubble, both boys looking up to see Flick standing in the doorway, a smirk on her face.

  
  


“Am I interrupting?” the eight year old asked slyly. Harry and Louis both shook their heads.

  
  


“What’d you need, love?” Harry asked. Flick held up what was probably homework.

  
  


“I need help with my maths homework,” she told them. Louis looked at Harry pleadingly.

  
  


“Can you help her? I’m rubbish with numbers,” Louis pouted. Harry rolled his eyes, swinging off Louis’ lap and following Flick into the kitchen, where they sat at the breakfast bar. Flick pulled a pencil out of the cup on the counter, and brandished her homework at Harry.

  
  


“We’re doing long division,” she told him, “but I don’t understand how to do it if the numbers don’t go in evenly.” Harry took the pencil out of her hand, writing as he explained what he was doing.

  
  


“So what you wanna do is start small. With 121/6, you wanna see how many times six goes into twelve, which is two,” he wrote a two over the two in twelve, “then you write what two times six is  _under_  the twelve, then subtract. You have zero, then you bring down the one. How many times does six go into one?”

  
  


“Zero?” Flick answered nervously.

  
  


“Right,” Harry nodded encouragingly, “So you write zero next to the two. Six times zero is zero, right? So you write zero under the one, and subtract. Your answer is twenty remainder one. Do the next one on your own.” He watched as she did the next one by herself, correcting her once, but over all just letting her figure it out. He watched as she proudly wrote the answer at the top of the problem.

  
  


“There, see? Not so hard, is it?” She shook her head happily, continuing with the next ones. When she was finished, he checked her work. He handed her back her paper with a proud smile, and she hugged him, whispering “thanks, dad” into his shirt. He patted her head, and sent her off to do the rest of her work. He wandered back into the living room, where Louis was still on his back on the couch, book open.

  
  


“They have sex yet?” Harry called as he made his way over. Louis looked up, chuckling.

  
  


“ _No_ ,” he told him, “They’re discussing Bella’s power. Now be quiet so I can read.”

  
  


Harry lifted Louis’ feet, sitting down and cradling them in his lap. He sat, tapping out a beat on Louis’ shins, looking around the room with a bored expression. Louis peered at him from around his book, exhaling exasperatedly, before tugging Harry down onto his chest. Harry grinned, shifting slightly into a more comfortable position, and curled his arm around Louis’ waist. Louis’ heart thudded under Harry’s ear, and he sighed contentedly, his eyes drifting shut. He was glad Louis was such a cuddly person—it allowed Harry to be close to him without making things awkward. Harry pinched Louis’ side, smirking as he yelped.

  
  


“Read to me,” he commanded, his eyes still closed. Louis chuckled, but began reading nonetheless. Harry felt himself getting sleepier, lulled by the beat of Louis’ heart beneath him and the hum of Louis’ voice above him.

  
  


“Falling asleep on me, Haz?” Louis asked, amusement tickling his words. Harry nodded, unable to form words with his mouth glued shut by sleep. Louis chuckled, but continued to read. The story was shit, but Louis’ voice was sweet and lovely, and it rumbled under Harry’s cheek. That was fine, Harry thought. He wouldn’t mind falling asleep to Louis’ voice for the rest of his life.

  
  


*~*~*~*

By the time Saturday evening rolled around, Harry was bouncing off the walls. It’d been close to a year since he’d seen Niall, and he missed his friend. He’d gotten in Friday evening, and had gone straight to Harry’s house. He’d be arriving at the Tomlinson household around six, with everyone else. Harry paced by the door, waiting eagerly for his friend. His mum and Louis were in the kitchen, finishing up the meal, and the girls were off playing in the living room. Harry started when the door bell rang, flinging the door open excitedly.

  
  


“Hey Harry,” an Irish lilt met his ears, and Harry grinned, launching himself at his blonde friend, meeting him in a hug half way.

  
  


“Niall! It’s so good to see you!” he yelped happily, tugging him inside. “Come meet the girls!” Niall watched as Harry lead him through to the living room. His friend had an enormous smile on his face, his eyes alight with joy. Harry looked happier than Niall had ever seen him. Niall felt himself smiling in response to his friend’s infectious joy.

  
  


“Girls,” Harry called, once they’d reached the living room. They looked up from what they were doing. “This is Niall, my friend from school. Niall, that’s Flick, Lottie, Georgia, Daisy, and Phoebe.” He pointed to each girl in turn as he said their names. Niall waved, greeting them with a jovial hello.

  
  


“Is he here, Harry?” Anne called from the kitchen, “Bring him in here!” Harry chuckled, excusing them from the girls and tugging Niall into the kitchen. Louis and Anne looked up as they walked in, Anne laughing delightedly and rushing over to give Niall a hug. Louis saw Harry’s hand on Niall’s wrist, and instantly felt something hot and uncomfortable well up in his stomach. He didn’t like it. Wandering over, he reached in and wrapped his arms around Harry’s torso, delighting in the way Harry dropped Niall’s wrist automatically, his own arms wrapping themselves around Louis’ shoulders. Louis felt Harry’s chuckle rumble in his chest.

  
  


“Alright, Lou?” he asked. Louis pulled back a bit, sticking his tongue out at him.

  
  


“Introduce me to your friend, loser,” Louis commanded, rolling his eyes playfully. Harry pinched his side, laughing as Louis yelped.

  
  


“Niall,” Harry said, drawing Niall’s attention to him and Louis, “this is Louis. Louis, meet Niall.” The two young men shook hands, Louis’ grip on Harry’s waist tightening slightly.

  
  


“Pleasure,” Louis said, overly sweetly. Harry frowned, and Anne hid her giggles behind her hand. Harry gently pulled Louis closer to him, not liking the unhappy feeling emanating off his friend. He cleared his throat.

  
  


“Right, well, now that everyone’s met each other, Louis and I are going to go set the table,” Harry said awkwardly, tugging Louis out of the room by his waist.

  
  


Once the were in the living room, and out of earshot of everyone else, Harry rounded on Louis, looking less angry than concerned.

  
  


“Are you alright?” he asked slowly, his hands falling to grip Louis’ hips. Louis nodded, shooting him a bemused look.

  
  


“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” His voice held nothing but genuine confusion, his hands going up to play with the lapels of Harry’s blazer.

  
  


“You seemed upset, in there,” Harry answered, “Your voice was off, when you greeted Niall.” Louis’ hands tightened on Harry’s lapels, his heart burning at the name. Some of his anger must have shown on his face, because Harry’s own turned startled. “What, do you not like Niall, or something? You just met him!”

  
  


“I know,” Louis sighed frustratedly, “But he just makes my blood boil. You walked in holding his wrist, and it made me angry.”

  
  


“Aw, is little Louis jealous?” Harry teased, trying to alleviate some of the tension.

  
  


“ _Yes_ ,” Louis burst out, “Because you’re  _my_  best friend—I don’t want him coming in here and ruining everything!” Harry looked slightly startled, before his face softened, and he brought a hand up to smooth along Louis’ cheek bone.

  
  


“He’s not going to ruin anything, Louis,” he assured him, “Because while I love Niall to pieces, _you’re_  my best friend.” Louis seemed to relax slightly at this.

  
  


“I don’t want you to leave,” he confessed. Harry looked confusedly at him.

  
  


“Where am I going?” he chuckled slightly.

  
  


“Home,” Louis answered, “When I’m better, and this is all over. I don’t want you to  _leave_. Stay with me.” Harry’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

  
  


“You… You want me to move in with you?” He asked slowly, like he couldn’t quite believe it. Louis nodded, biting his lip, and focusing his eyes on Harry’s lapels. Harry forced a heavy breath through his lips. “You don’t think it’d be weird? The girls might not like it.” Louis laughed.

  
  


“If that’s your reason for saying no, then you really need to rethink your relationship with them,” he giggled, “They call you ‘daddy’, Haz. They’d be ecstatic if you moved in here permanently.” Harry laughed along with him, pushing his hands from their positions on Louis’ cheeks, into his friend’s hair.

  
  


“Alright, loony. I’ll move in with you,” he rumbled.

  
  


*~*~*~*

  
  


Zayn and Liam arrived about ten minutes later, entering with jovial “honey, we’re home”s shouted throughout the house. Georgia immediately ran towards Liam, flinging herself into his arms and chattering excitedly about her week. Flick was more subtle in her excitement, coming over and giving Zayn a hug, letting him guide her over to the couch.

  
  


“Where’s Lou?” Zayn asked the room at large, looking up when Louis’ voice sounded from the doorway.

  
  


“Over here, Harry and I were just setting the table,” he told them, Harry’s arm not moving from its place on his shoulder.

  
  


“Where’s the cast, Lou?” Liam asked. Louis grinned, holding up his arm where a glowing orange cast rested, littered with signatures from the girls. Liam nodded in approval.

  
  


“Orange—to match your carrots, yeah?” he joked. Louis chuckled.

  
  


“’Course, Lili!” Louis replied. Anne popped her head in, telling them that dinner was ready. Everyone piled into the dining room, Harry and Louis taking their places next to each of the twins, so they could cut up their food.

  
  


The evening passed by in a blur, full of happy chatter and warm food and smiling faces. Louis found that he actually got along quite well with Niall, now that he knew Harry was staying with him. He felt silly, having felt so threatened by him—this innocuous little Irishman, with a boisterous laugh and a happy face. Niall’s laugh, he found, was infectious, and the Irishman laughed at everything. Part of the way through dinner, when he and Niall were laughing over something the other boy had said, Louis had looked up through his tears to see Harry smirking at him, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

  
  


After dinner they gathered in the living room, Harry curling up in the corner of the couch with his feet in Louis’ lap. They talked for about three hours, the girls playing around them. Sometime during the third hour, Phoebe climbed up onto Harry’s lap, curing into his arms and sucking her thumb. She’d fallen asleep by the fourth hour, and at that point Harry had decided it was time for all the girls to go to bed, as Daisy and Georgia were fighting sleep as well, and Flick’s eyelids were drooping. He stood up with Phoebe in his arms, calling the girls after him. They followed him like ducklings, the youngest not even bothering to protest. Louis stood up, as well, following them out.

  
  


“Alright, can someone please tell me if Harry and Louis are together, because I just got here and I’m really confused,” Niall stated bluntly. Liam and Zayn burst out laughing, and even Anne chuckled a bit.

  
  


“Not as far as we know, mate,” Liam told him, “But we’re glad you noticed the odd dynamic between the two of them.”

  
  


“When Louis first met Harry, I honestly thought he’d met a girl, or had gotten laid, or something,” Zayn added, “He was so  _happy._ And so eager to impress, too.”

  
  


“Remember the first time Harry came for Saturday night dinner?” Liam chuckled, “Louis was so distraught over what Harry would think of this place, that he lay face down on the floor until Harry actually  _arrived_.”

  
  


“If I remember correctly,” Zayn said, “Harry actually walked in and  _found_  him on the floor, face down.”

  
  


“That’s right,” Liam laughed, “He did! And he just chuckled and gave him a hug. He’s a good guy, Harry is.”

  
  


“Thanks, mate,” Harry chuckled, as he and Louis reentered the room.

  
  


“What are we talking about?” Louis asked, as he and Harry repositioned themselves on the couch, Louis curled into Harry’s side, Harry’s fingers dancing along his hip subconsciously.

  
  


“Nothing,” Liam stated, “Nothing at all.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

Harry fidgeted the inseam of his trousers, eying his friend nervously. Niall stared back, an expectant eyebrow raised, and just sipped his coffee. Harry glanced away, looking around the crowded café they were in, and fiddled with the handle of his own mug.

  
  


“Are you going to tell me what’s got you so worked up, or are we just going to sit here?” Niall finally demanded, sounding fed-up with his friend’s silence. Harry cleared his throat, ruffling his curls as he took in a calming breath of air.

  
  


“So, here’s the thing,” he started, putting his hands flat on the table, “I’ve got to tell you something. Something important. And I’m a bit nervous, because I love you, and I don’t want to ruin our friendship—”

  
  


“Harry, just spit it out!” Niall cried, throwing his hands up in exasperation and nearly knocking over his coffee. Harry winced, clearing his throat again.

  
  


“Right, er, sorry,” he mumbled, “What I’ve got to tell you is… I’ve kind of got a crush on Louis.”

  
  


Niall stared at him for a second, an incredulous look on his face, before he burst out laughing. He really did knock over his coffee this time, banging his fists on the table, and yelping as the hot drink spilled over his lap. He and Harry scrambled for some napkins, wiping up the mess as best they could. They sat back down, and Niall chuckled some more.

  
  


“Harry, mate, I know,” he giggled at Harry’s surprised face, “I knew the minute I walked into the kitchen. You’re  _gay_ , mate.”

  
  


“I’m—I’m not  _gay_ ,” Harry spluttered, “I just—I just like  _him_.”

  
  


“No, Harry,” Niall told him, “you  _love_  him.” Harry blushed brilliantly, but stayed quiet for the moment, neither denying nor affirming Niall’s words. After a moment, he spoke.

  
  


“So… You’re okay with this?” Harry asked tentatively. Niall snorted, pulling out his phone. He tapped a couple times, before turning the phone around and showing Harry a picture of a boy with straight, dirty blonde hair and brown eyes, his face lit up in a silly smile.

  
  


“See him?” Niall asked, his own face softened by a loving smile, “That’s Sean, my boyfriend.” Harry’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

  
  


“Your boyfriend? Since when?” Harry queried incredulously. Niall smiled again, gazing down at the picture.

  
  


“Two years,” he murmured, “I love him so much, Harry. I didn’t want to tell you because I wasn’t sure how you’d react, but… Then I saw you with Louis, and I felt less apprehensive. This is the first time in three years that I won’t be spending Christmas with him,” he finished softly.

  
  


“Invite him down,” Harry said abruptly. Niall’s eyebrows shot up.

  
  


“What?” He said.

  
  


“Invite him down! My house is plenty big for the two of you, and I’m okay with it,” Harry shrugged, “If he’s okay with it, then I don’t see why this should be a problem.” Niall eyed him hopefully.

  
  


“Really? You’d really be okay with the two of us in your house?”

  
  


“Well, it’s not like I’m even going to be there, anyway, since I’m at Lou’s house,” Harry reasoned, “And if you guys have the means to bring him down, I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t spend the holidays together.”

  
  


“Harry, you’re the absolute best,” Niall stated tearfully, all but leaping over the table to hug his friend. Harry laughed, hugging his best friend tightly. When Niall calmed down, he sat back in his seat, fidgeting with his phone, looking happy and anxious. Harry rolled his eyes.

  
  


“Go call him, you twat,” Harry huffed exasperatedly. Niall grinned, jumping up and running out of the café. Harry smiled after him, turning to his coffee and draining the last of it. He pulled out his phone, unlocking it with the intent of sending Louis a text to let him know that they’d have company on Christmas. A smile lit up his face as he saw that Louis had already texted him.

  
  


_While you’re out, can you get more orange juice? Hurry up xx -Louis_

  
  


Harry rolled his eyes at his friend, still smiling unintentionally as he tapped out a reply.

  
  


_I’ll get you some juice, loony. Btw, Niall’s boyfriend is coming down for Christmas, I told him they could stay at my house. Glad you miss me ;) xx -Harry_

  
  


Harry tucked his phone away, looking out the café window to see Niall talking on the phone, a blush gracing his face as he smiled sweetly at his shoes. Harry grinned, happy to see his friend so happy. His phone buzzed, and Harry quickly pulled it out of his pocket.

  
  


…  _I didn’t miss you, I missed my juice. BRING ME MY JUICE WOMAN xx -Louis_

  
  


_I’m not a woman you loon. Just for that I don’t think I’ll buy you juice xx -Harry_

  
  


_No!!! I’m sorry!!! I love you, you’re very manly!!!!!! Please bring me some juice :( xx -Louis_

  
  


_Well… If I’m manly, I suppose I can. :P xx -Harry_

  
  


_Yeeeees! Give it to me noooooow! Xx -Louis_

  
  


_That’s what she said xx -Harry_

  
  


_You are extremely immature xx -Louis_

  
  


_Says the man who insisted on an orange cast because of he loves carrots xx -Harry_

  
  


_WHERE IS MY JUICE HARRY???? (notice the subtle subject change)xx -Louis_

  
  


_IT’S COMING CALM YOURSELF!!!! (You’re all about subtlety aren’t you loony :P)xx -Harry_

  
  


_Just give me some JUICE xx -Louis_

  
  


_Not if you’re gonna yell at me like that. It hurts my feelings. :( xx -Harry_

  
  


_Fine. I’m very sorry I hurt your feelings, please just give me some juice. Thank you xx -Louis_

  
  


Harry jumped as Niall sat down in front of him, a smirk on his face.

  
  


“Texting Louis?” He asked, as though he already knew the answer.

  
  


“How did you know?” Harry asked surprisedly. Niall snorted.

  
  


“You have this look you wear whenever you’re around him, or someone mentions him. It’s very sweet,” Niall told him mockingly. Harry stuck his tongue out.

  
  


“I reckon it’s similar to the one you wear when you talk about Sean? The same one you were wearing minutes ago when you were on the phone with him?” Harry responded. Niall’s smirk deepened, though his cheeks darkened slightly.

  
  


“Do you realize that you just admitted that you’re in love with Louis?”

*~*~*~*

The girls had two weeks off for Christmas, starting on the twenty-third of December. Harry and Louis had scrambled for gifts, having Anne watch the girls while the two of them went out on the twenty-second. Louis liked shopping with Harry—it was much better than shopping had been in years passed. They had gone to the mall, wandering through the shops in search of toys and things to buy for the girls. They had ended up consulting with a random mother, asking her opinion on several things they couldn’t decide on.

  
  


It’d been damn near impossible to get the presents into the house without the girls seeing, and Harry had all but collapsed afterwards. The girls had piled on him, giggling as he groaned and shouted for Louis to help him. Louis had just laughed from the doorway, ignoring Harry’s pleas.

  
  


Harry discovered quickly that Louis did not understand the basic principles of wrapping gifts. By the third terribly wrapped present, Harry had exasperatedly told Louis to  _“just sit there and hand me the tape and scissors when I ask you to”._

  
  


On the twenty-fourth, after the girls were in bed, Harry and Louis began to put the presents under the tree, grouping them by name. Harry laughed softly as Louis tried to pull one of the larger presents over to the tree.

  
  


“Lou,” Harry whispered, “Lou, let me do the big ones.” Louis glared good-naturedly at him.

  
  


“You like the big ones, don’t you, Harry,” Louis teased quietly. Harry snorted, rolling his eyes and going over to help him.

  
  


“You’ve still got your cast, loony, you can’t move the big ones,” Harry told him gently, carefully pulling the gift out of Louis’ hands, “I don’t want you getting hurt again.” Louis didn’t complain again after that.

  
  


*~*~*~*

  
  


Harry groaned as the bed shifted underneath him. A small foot landed near is rib, and he yelped, jerking away. He grumbled, curling further into Louis, pressing his face into his friend’s neck and tightening his embrace. Louis mumbled sleepily above him, nuzzling the top of Harry’s head and shoving his hands deeper in to Harry’s hair. Harry sighed, pressing closer.

  
  


“Daddy!”

  
  


“Get up!”

  
  


“Don’t go back to sleep!”

  
  


“Louis, wake him up!”

  
  


“Louis, wake up!”

  
  


The bed shifted repeatedly as the girls jumped around them. Daisy fell forward, bracing herself on Harry’s back, then shaking him, rolling him back and forth. He groaned again, clinging tighter to Louis and tensing his muscles in an attempt to stay put. Phoebe let out a little wail, falling to her knees behind Louis and hitting his back gently.

  
  


“What time is it?” Louis grumbled. Daisy cheered at the sign of life, and Phoebe answered him.

  
  


“It’s seven three six, Louis,” she told him cheerfully. Harry whimpered, trying desperately to get closer to Louis than he already was.

  
  


“It’s not even eight in the morning,” he cried into Louis neck. Daisy and Phoebe exchanged incredulous looks.

  
  


“But it’s Christmas!” They exclaimed in unison. Louis cracked an eyelid, lifting his head slightly to look at Daisy. Harry moaned in protest, tugging Louis’ head in an attempt to get him to lie back down. Louis stroked Harry’s hair absentmindedly, and Harry sighed contentedly, his demanding grip on Louis’ head loosening so his hand just rested at the base of his scull, toying idly with Louis’ hair.

  
  


“Why don’t you go wake up your grandma Anne?” Louis suggested sleepily, finally dropping his head back down next to Harry’s. Harry made a noise of agreement, scooting a little closer to Louis again. Daisy rolled her eyes at her twin, and the two of them clambered off the bed and scampered over to the door.

  
  


Louis sighed into Harry’s hair, sleep tugging at his conscious. He  _really_  didn’t want to move—he was warm, and comfortable, and  _safe_  here, cocooned in blankets and wrapped around Harry. Christmas could wait.

  
  


*~*~*~*

  
  


As it turned out, Christmas  _couldn’t_  wait, and Louis soon found himself laying with his head in Harry’s lap as the girls started sorting through the presents. He felt Harry yawn above him, and he chuckled sleepily at his friend. He watched blearily as his sisters opened their gifts, excited squeals and laughter filling the room. The girls weren’t content just opening  _their_  gifts, though. They wanted Harry and Louis to participate. So Louis sat up, and grabbed his present for Harry. Harry took it from him, shooting him a smile. Louis watched anxiously as Harry’s long fingers peeled back the paper. When he saw what was inside the poorly wrapped package, he laughed delightedly.

  
  


“Lou!” he giggled, “what even?”

  
  


“I couldn’t think of what to get you,” he grinned, “I decided on something from the  _heart_.” He patted his heart sarcastically. Harry laughed again, leaning over and hugging him. Louis grinned hugging him back tightly. Flick made a disgruntled sound.

  
  


“What is it?” She demanded. Harry pulled back from Louis, turning the frame around to reveal the crayon picture of Harry that Louis had drawn for their contest. Only Louis had drawn himself in, too, and it looked like one of those child’s drawings of their family. Flick raised her eyebrow, unsure how she should respond. Harry put the picture down carefully, smiling softly at it, before reaching forward and retrieving Louis’ present.

  
  


“You’re going to show me up now, aren’t you?” Louis teased, “Look, the wrapping’s even better than mine!”

  
  


“That’s because you refused to listen to me when I tried to show you how to wrap gifts,” Harry told him exasperatedly, “Just open it, loony.” So Louis did, pulling back the paper on the box. He snorted.

  
  


“You got me the Twilight Saga DVD box set?” Louis asked, with sarcastic joy.

  
  


“Well, I figured that you might want to watch the movies and compare to the books,” Harry teased. Louis poked his tongue out at his friend.

  
  


“Only if you’ll watch it with me,” Louis told him. Harry chuckled.

  
  


“Deal.”

  
  


*~*~*~*

  
  


Liam and Zayn arrived for Christmas dinner at four. Louis and Harry were in the kitchen, cooking together—making more mess than food. Sean and Niall arrived an hour later, and the dinner still wasn’t ready. At that point, all of the girls were complaining about being hungry, so Anne rolled her eyes and marched into the kitchen. Upon entering, she stopped in her tracks, astonished at the sight before her. Harry and Louis looked up, Harry’s arms around Louis’ waist as though keeping him from running away, Louis’ hands wrapped around Harry’s hands as though they weren’t quite sure if they wanted Harry’s hands to stay, or if they wanted them to remove themselves. They had huge smiles on their faces, and were covered in different foodstuffs. She shook her head, muttering “I don’t want to know”, and promptly kicked them out of the kitchen to go shower. It was a different kind of walk of shame, walking through the living room, where their friends and the girls were, covered in food and wearing sheepish smiles.

  
  


They didn’t bother with an actual shower, since it would take too long, and Louis didn’t want to have to wrap up his cast. They used rags to wipe their faces, and Louis took special care with Harry’s curls. They changed clothes and walked back downstairs, where Anne had some how managed to get dinner on the table in the time they were gone. They sat down side by side, grinning into their peas for the entire dinner. They were so preoccupied by each other, that they didn’t notice their friends smirking at each other across the table.

  
  


When they had all finished their dinner they headed back into the living room. However, Zayn stopped in the doorway a moment, causing Harry and Louis to stop behind him. He rushed over to Liam a moment later, grinning evilly at his two friends. Niall laughed heartily.

  
  


“Guys,” he said, “Look up.”

  
  


Harry’s stomach dropped, already knowing what was about to happen. He winced looking up to see the mistletoe. Louis stared at it for a moment before lowering his eyes to meet Harry’s. Harry leaned forward, pecking him on the cheek in an attempt to avoid an awkward situation.

  
  


“Oh come on, mate!” Zayn laughed, “That won’t do!”

  
  


“Yeah,” Liam added, “Give him a real kiss!”

  
  


Harry looked at Louis nervously, unsure how he’d feel about it. Louis smiled apologetically at his friend, shrugging his shoulders.

  
  


“Don’t do anything you’re not comfortable with,” Louis told him quietly, so only Harry could hear.

  
  


Harry swallowed hard, his eyes flicking down briefly to Louis’ lips. Louis’ tongue flicked out, swiping across his bottom lip, and Harry just couldn’t help himself. He surged forward, gripping Louis’ face tightly as he pushed his lips onto Louis’. It was brief, nothing more than a peck, but it was enough. Harry pulled back, leaning his forehead against Louis’. His eyes searched his for some sign that he was upset, or angry, but Louis just patted Harry’s hip.

  
  


“It’s okay,” he whispered, “It’s fine.”

  
  


“We’re still friends, right?” Harry asked, trying to hide the desperation from his voice. “This doesn’t change anything?”

  
  


“No, Harry,” Louis told him gently, his thumb brushing lightly over the exposed skin of Harry’s hip, “This doesn’t change anything. We’re still friends.”

  
  


And with that, they separated, needing a little space after what had just happened. Harry sat by Niall trying desperately to act normally, forcing a laugh and trying not to glance over at Louis. Louis settled himself next to Zayn, answering absently to any questions that came his way, but focusing more on the inward sensations Harry’s kiss had caused. The conclusion he came to was frightening, and he wasn’t sure was he was supposed to do about it.

  
  


Somewhere along the way, Louis had fallen in love with Harry.  _Boy_ , was he screwed.

 


	9. Chapter 9

In retrospect, Harry probably should’ve knocked—even if it  _was_  his house. If he had, his friends would’ve been given enough warning so as not to be fucking on his couch. They sat in front of him now, red in the face, clothes hastily pulled on and slightly askew. Harry took a deep breath, halting his pacing to stand in front of them, his hand on his hip.

  
  


“Okay,” he started, gesturing with his free hand, “Okay. I know guys are together, and that’s fine, but I’d much prefer it if you  _didn’t_  have sex on my couch. The bed’s fine, or the shower, but the couch… That’s just—I don’t even know.”

  
  


“Sorry, mate,” Niall began, face apologetic, “We didn’t mean to, we just… Got caught up in the moment. Sorry.”

  
  


“Honestly, that is more of both of you than I ever intended to see,” Harry shuddered.

  
  


“Well… You  _did_ just walk in unannounced. We weren’t expecting you!” Niall told him exasperatedly. His face morphed into one of confusion. “Wait—why  _are_ you here? I thought you were taking Louis to get his cast changed.”

  
  


“Zayn offered to take him” Harry shrugged, “Said he’d been missing Lou. Can’t blame him—he hardly sees him anymore, because he can’t work.”

  
  


“That still doesn’t explain why you’re here,” Niall told him, “What about the girls?”

  
  


“They’re with mum,” Harry explained, moving to sit in the arm chair near Niall, “I needed to get some more clothes, ‘cause I’m tired of wearing the same things over and over again. I thought I’d do that while Lou’s out.”

  
  


“Oh,” Niall said, and a somewhat awkward silence settled over the three young men. Sean looked at Niall until his lover met his eyes, and gave him a nudge. Niall shook his head, communicating silently through his eyes, and Sean gave him a pointed look. Niall rolled his eyes sticking his tongue out, and Harry sighed, jolting the pair out of their silent conversation.

  
  


“Look, if there’s something you want to talk about without me here, just tell me—I’ll go get my things together—but that silent thing you’re doing is annoying, and a little creepy,” Harry told them, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Sean gave Niall another look, before addressing Harry.

  
  


“Niall has something he wants to tell you,” he said, and Harry’s face pinched in confusion, looking at his friend, who shifted uncomfortably.

  
  


“Sean and I…” Niall trailed off, taking a deep breath, and grabbing Sean’s hand to steady himself, “Sean and I are getting married.”

  
  


Harry frowned briefly as he processed the words, before his face lit up in an enormous smile. He threw himself at his friend, tackling him back on the couch and yelling incoherently. Niall laughed in relief, hugging his friend back tightly.

  
  


“Where’s the ring?” Harry demanded, brilliant smile still on his face as he pulled back, “Where is it?”

  
  


Niall laughed harder, pulling a chain from around his neck. Harry squealed, planting himself on Niall’s lap so he could get a better look. When he was done, he tucked it back into Niall’s shirt, throwing his arms around his neck and hugging him again, laughing out an  _I’m so happy for you_. Harry pulled back, still smiling, and stood up, stretching his arms over his head.

  
  


“So when’s the wedding?” Harry asked, letting his arms drop to his side. Niall smiled happily.

  
  


“June,” he said, “Do you… Do you think you’d be my best man?”

  
  


“Of course I would!” Harry exclaimed, “I’d have been offended if you hadn’t asked me!”

  
  


Niall laughed, his cheeks rosy from excitement. Harry grinned at his friend, unbelievably happy for him, and started slightly as his phone buzzed. He unlocked it quickly, bursting into laughter when he read the text Zayn had sent him.

  
  


_Heads up: Lou’s gonna be a bit loopy when he gets home. He fainted when the doctor went to cut off his cast, and somehow burst his stitches. They had to redo them as well as give him a new cast, so he’s all hype on pain meds. ~Zayn_

  
  


_Lovely. Thanks mate. How long till you get back? ~Harry_

  
  


_T-15 ~Zayn_

  
  


_He’s asking for you, btw ~Zayn_

  
  


Harry’s face broke out in a smile and he shook his head. He put his phone away, looking up at Niall and Sean.

  
  


“I’m gonna get my stuff and go,” he told them, “Lou’s gonna be home soon, so I gotta go.”

  
  


“Have fun, mate,” Niall smirked, and Harry pointedly ignored the looks the two boys were giving him, exiting the room.

  
  


*~*~*~*

  
  


Zayn hadn’t been kidding when he said Louis was “hype” on pain medication. Upon entering the house, Louis attached himself to Harry’s side and wouldn’t let go, crying and proclaiming that Harry was the only reason he was still alive after all the torture he’d been through. Harry had sighed, taking his friend up to bed, where Louis had calmed slightly, allowing himself to be laid down and tucked in. He did not, however, allow  _Harry_  to go back downstairs. So Harry had sighed again, pulling back the covers and letting Louis cuddle into his chest with a soft keen in the back of his throat. It wasn’t all the bad, really—in fact, Harry would almost go as far as to say he enjoyed this clingy Louis. He wrapped an arm around his friend’s waist, and stroked his hair, and whispered nonsense in his ear until he fell asleep, tucked into Harry’s side.

  
  


Anne had come up two hours later, telling Harry that it was time for Louis to take another dose. It had taken fifteen minutes for Harry to realize that Louis wasn’t going to let him go anywhere. He had cried, pleaded, yelled, weeped, threatened, and clung to Harry like his life depended on it, and Harry’s mother had finally taken pity and gotten Louis’ medication for him. Louis had settled down after that, curling back into an exasperated Harry’s chest and falling asleep once more.

  
  


The rest of the family thought it was a riot, Lottie and Flick poking their heads in the bedroom door and giggling every twenty or so minutes. Harry didn’t find this amusing in the slightest, and, had he been able to move without another bitch fit from Louis, he would have locked the bedroom door to keep them out.

  
  


As it was, this was not the case. So he stayed where he was, running his fingers through his delirious friend’s hair, and hissing at the girls every time their heads poked around the doorframe.

  
  


He sighed again, gazing down as his friend mumbled sleepily into his shirt. Harry leaned down, dropping a careful kiss to Louis’ hair.

  
  


“One of these days, loony,” he mumbled, “You’ll understand how much you mean to me. One of these days, I won’t have to laugh when people ask if we’re in love. One of these days I won’t have to tell them ‘no, we’re best friends’. One of these days, you’ll love me like I love you, and I’ll be telling my friends that we’re getting married, and asking Niall to be my best man. One of these days, loony, we’ll be done pretending.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

It was hot and sticky in the room, beads of sweat crawling down Louis’ neck and slipping under the collar of his jumper. He tugged on it gently with his good hand, his other pruning in the hot encasement of the orange cast. The rubber feet of the metal folding chair in which his arse was planted squeaked against the linoleum as he shifted away from the table. One of the paint brushes rolled to the ground, and Louis, in his overheated, lethargic state, lunged for it. He missed by several inches, the plastic art utensil clattering to the ground, accompanied by Louis’ frustrated sigh.

  
  


He leaned over to reach for it, too lazy to move from his chair, when a head of curls suddenly blocked his vision. He watched as Harry bent down, his pants riding low on his hips, and picked up the brush, holding it out to Louis with a smirk.

  
  


“Already tired, Lou?” Harry asked him, laughing at his friend’s dazed nod, “The kids haven’t even gotten here, loony!”

  
  


“It’s hot,” Louis whined, “And I’m expecting to hate this—I can’t believe you assigned me to the face paint table! You know I’m a terrible artist!”

  
  


“If you’re hot, take your sweater off,” Harry told him pointedly, gesturing to the white, wooly jumper Louis was wearing, “And the reason you’re here is because no one else would do it—you think I wanted to let you near children’s faces with paint? After the drawings you’ve done?”

  
  


“So why can’t you do it?” Louis complained again, tugging on Harry’s hand, “Please, Harry, I don’t want to!”

  
  


“I can’t, Lou!” Harry laughed, tangling his fingers with Louis’, “You know I can’t—I’ve got to make sure the rest of the fair is running smoothly.”

  
  


“I don’t understand the point of a winter fair, anyway,” Louis pouted petulantly, “Shouldn’t you have fairs in the summer, when it’s nice, and you can have it outside?”

  
  


“In the summer kids have more to do—winter is when kids spend most of their time inside, playing video games or watching the telly,” Harry explained, crouching to look Louis in the eye, a small smile still playing on his lips, “that’s what the winter fair is for; to give them something else to do.”

  
  


“Why do you do that?” Louis griped, releasing Harry’s hand to tug on his curls, “Why do you always have to be so logical when I get whiny?”

  
  


“To stop you whining,” Harry chuckled, his hands resting gently on Louis’ thighs as he leaned forward into Louis’ hands, “Are you going to take your sweater off?”

  
  


“Eager to get me out of my clothes, aren’t we, Styles?” Louis grinned madly down at his friend, twisting the silky locks in his fingers. Harry’s eyes slipped shut, pushing his head further into Louis’ touch, a happy little sigh escaping his mouth.

  
  


“I’m not taking the face painting stand for you, loony,” Harry mumbled his head finally falling to rest on Louis’ thigh, as though his neck had given up trying to keep him upright, “You think you can just play with my hair, and I’ll so anything you want.”

  
  


“I wouldn’t think that if it wasn’t true, Harry,” Louis said, smiling down at his friend, who was all but purring at this point, “I just put my hands in, and you turn to mush.”

  
  


“You have nice hands,” Harry huffed, his breath caressing Louis’ leg. A shiver wracked his body, goose bumps rising on his skin. He cleared his throat awkwardly, the blood rising in his cheeks. He removed his fingers from Harry’s hair, earning a soft keen in protest, and pulled his jumper over his head. The white t-shirt he was wearing rode up on his stomach, before he settled it back around his hips. His hands immediately found their way back into Harry’s curls, and a small, involuntary sigh of  _“yes”_  fell from Harry’s mouth at the contact.

  
  


They stayed just like that for an immeasurable amount of time, before Suzanne, one of the other teachers, came over to see what was going on. The elderly woman insisted on taking Harry’s temperature, sure that he was feeling ill. Harry grumpily took the thermometer just to quiet the old woman, pointedly ignoring Louis’ hysterical laughter.

  
  


*~*~*~*

  
  


Louis was not a happy camper. He hated children, he hated this room, he hated his life, and, most of all, he hated Harry’s perfect face. The children kept demanding elaborate paintings on their faces, like a butterfly, or a spiderman mask, or the Mona Lisa—and Harry had smirked at him every time. The kids had stopped coming once they realized that Louis was pretty much the worst artist ever—although there were a few who kept coming back, with clean faces, and demanding more, and more, difficult paintings, just to watch Louis struggle.

  
  


“Alright, Carter, we’re gonna give Louis a break now,” Harry chuckled, placing a hand on the young boy’s shoulder, who pouted, evidently not done torturing Louis, “You can come back later, okay?”

  
  


“Thank you,” Louis breathed, slumping in relief against the chair as Carter scampered off, before glaring through half lidded eyes at his smirking friend, “You’re a dick.”

  
  


“Louis,” Harry laughed, “Not around the children.”

  
  


“Not around the children,” Louis grumbled darkly, “You hate me.”

  
  


“I do not!” Harry exclaimed, still laughing. He moved forward, settling on his knees in between Louis’ legs, wrapping his arms loosely around Louis’ waist. “You just hate painting.”

  
  


“Yeah, and you  _know_ that,” Louis whined, his own arms looping around Harry’s neck, his fingers twining in the curls at the base of Harry’s neck, “They’re  _trying_  to make this hard for me.”

  
  


“Only because you let them,” Harry smiled lazily up at him, shuffling forward so his arms could wrap all the way around Louis’ waist, leaning his head back slightly into Louis’ hands, “If you told them ‘no, I’m not doing that’, they’d take it. You’re letting them walk all over you.”

  
  


“I don’t know how to handle kids!” Louis cried, “They’re little monsters, and I don’t understand their brains.”

  
  


“You deal with the girls just fine,” Harry pointed out. Louis huffed, his fringe fluttering briefly off his forehead.

  
  


“The girls are related to me,” Louis told him, giving him a pointed look, “and they actually listen.”

  
  


“Yeah, they listen because they know you won’t do whatever they want,” Harry explained with an eye roll, “You just have to employ the same playful sternness with these kids as you do with the girls.”

  
  


“When does this end?” Louis asked abruptly, “When can we go home?”

  
  


“At one,” Harry chuckled, playing with the hem of Louis’ t-shirt, “You’re stuck here ‘til then.”

  
  


“Noooo,” Louis moaned, “It’s only eleven thirty!”

  
  


“You’ll live,” Harry grinned.

  
  


“Don’t leave me alone with these twerps,” Louis pleaded, “ _Please_.”

  
  


“I’ll see what I can do,” Harry laughed, shaking his head slightly, careful not to displace Louis’ fingers. Louis squawked indignantly.

  
  


“Why couldn’t you have stayed with me before?” Louis wailed, “I’ve been suffering over here for the passed two hours! And all you’ve been doing is laughing at me from the other side of the room!”

  
  


“You want me to laugh at you from over here?” Harry asked cheekily, earning a sharp tug on his hair from a petulant Louis, “Alright, I’m sorry—it was just too amusing, I didn’t want to ruin your fun.”

  
  


“You’re a dick,” Louis repeated, smiling against his will at the little grin that adorned Harry’s face.

  
  


“You love me,” Harry replied, and Louis fought the blush that threatened to color his cheeks.

  
  


“Shut up,” he whined, and Harry only laughed in response.

  
  


“C’mon,” Harry sighed, pushing himself up off the floor, rolling his eyes as Louis whined in protest, “We ought to open the face paint back up. Let me just run and let Jess know that I’m gonna be over here, so she can keep an eye on the rest of the fair.”

  
  


Louis nodded, fiddling awkwardly with the hem of his shirt as he awaited Harry’s return. He glanced up, surveying the room, and the children in it. He hadn’t seen the twins at all today, but that wasn’t necessarily bad. It’d be a safe bet to say they were in the gym, which would explain why he hadn’t seen them. His eyes flicked back over to Harry, who looked ridiculously good in the navy t-shirt he was wearing. Suddenly hot under the collar, Louis shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearing his throat and tugging his shirt away from his torso briefly.

  
  


Harry sauntered back over to Louis, a smile still on his face, dimple ever present. He pulled another chair over, his biceps straining against the sleeve of his shirt. Louis swallowed hard, licking his lips briefly as he attempted to keep himself reigned in.

  
  


“So,” Harry said, sitting across from Louis and throwing his feet into his friend’s lap, “What’ve we got to do?”

  
  


“I don’t know!” Louis laughed, smacking Harry’s feet gently, but not making any attempt to remove them, “You’re the one who put me here!”

  
  


“You’re crazy,” Harry grinned, “You’ve been doing this for two hours! How do you not know what you’re doing?”

  
  


“Because I’ve been blocking it out,” Louis told him, absently fiddling with Harry’s sneakers, “This is the worst.”

  
  


“It’s better now that I’m here, yeah?” Harry beamed, “Come on, it can’t be that bad.”

  
  


“It is!” Louis cried, “You only know them as angels because they like you! They’re actually little devils.”

  
  


“Shush, you,” Harry smirked, “You’re not trying hard enough.”

  
  


“This is why you’re the teacher, and I’m the waiter,” Louis told him, “I deal with adults, you deal with children.”

  
  


“There have to be children at your job,” Harry said, giving Louis a pointed look, “You work at a restaurant—don’t families come in?”

  
  


“Yeah, they do,” Louis agreed, “But I let Liam take those. He’ll take the tables if I trade breaks so he can be with Zayn.”

  
  


“You’re ridiculous,” Harry laughed, giving him a fond look, “What’s up with them anyway?”

  
  


“What do you mean?” Louis asked confusedly. Harry raised an eyebrow.

  
  


“They’re all over each other,” Harry stated.

  
  


“ _We’re_  all over each other,” Louis pointed out, taking a quiet pleasure in Harry’s blush.

  
  


“Well,  _yeah_ , but that’s just how we are…” Harry trailed off, realizing he wasn’t really making much sense, “I just mean: they seem a lot like they’re dancing around each other. Like, they _want_  to be around each other, and they seek each other out, but they’re kind of… I dunno, it’s hard to explain.”

  
  


“No,” Louis sighed, “I kind of get what you mean. I don’t really know what’s up with them, they’ve been friends forever. I guess they’ve lost sight of the boundaries.”

  
  


“Yeah,” Harry muttered, “Lost sight of the boundaries.”

  
  


“I don’t mean that in a bad way,” Louis said hastily, “I just mean, you know, there  _is_  a line between platonic relationships and romantic ones, otherwise people would have sex with their friends.”

  
  


“Well, Lou,” Harry said, “There are people who  _do_.”

  
  


“I know, but I meant more as a general rule, than as an exception,” Louis explained, “there’s a level of physical attraction that comes with being friends, but most people would balk at the idea of having sex with their friends. That’s what I mean by boundaries.”

  
  


“Yeah,” Harry agreed softly, “Most people would.”


	11. Chapter 11

“No, get that thing away from me— _no_ ,” Louis scrambled hastily away from the doctor, scooting down the bench and pressing back against Harry, who chuckled at his friend’s reaction, “Last time that made me pass out— _do you want a repeat performance?_ ”

  
  


“Louis, calm down,” Harry said, grinning down at his distraught friend, “Honestly, those things can’t cut skin.”

  
  


“Don’t lie to me,” Louis hissed, glaring up at Harry, but turning more into his embrace nonetheless, “He’s not actually going to remove my cast, he just wants to make me  _think_  he is, and then he’s going to cut off my arm and use it for scientific experimentation!”

  
  


“Loony, you’re being a bit paranoid, don’t you think?” Harry asked, stroking Louis’ left side gently, “I’ll prove it to you, look.” Harry nodded at the doctor, who shrugged, turning on the small saw. Harry stuck his arm out and Louis shrieked, yanking Harry’s arm back and clinging to it.

  
  


“No,” Louis yelped hysterically, “You’re not hurting him!”

  
  


“No, you’re right, Lou,” Harry smiled, leaning down to revert Louis’ attention from the doctor, to him, “He’s not hurting me. I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t know for sure it wouldn’t hurt me. Let me  _show_  you, Louis.”

Hesitantly, Louis let go of Harry’s arm. Harry reached out again, holding it palm up, as the doctor switched the saw back on. Louis watched in utter horror as the machine neared Harry’s skin, wincing as at the blade touched down. Where he expected blood and naked flesh, he found nothing out of the ordinary. Harry looked down at Louis as he slowly sat up, eyes never leaving Harry’s arm.

  
  


“How did—I mean—how does that even make sense?” Louis asked, finally turning to face Harry, his face a mask of confusion, “How—I don’t understand.”

  
  


“The saw is made so it only cuts certain things. How else would they remove casts without injuring people further?” Harry gave Louis a pointed look, “Will you let him take your cast off, now?”

  
  


“I—I suppose…” Louis mumbled, “But—can you—I mean, will you—uh… Hold my hand?”

  
  


Harry smiled softly at him, reaching around to grasp his good hand. Louis took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut and holding out his casted arm. The doctor moved forward, turning the saw on for the third time. Louis clutched at Harry’s hand, whimpering slightly and pressing his face into Harry’s shirt as he felt the machine come in contact with his cast. He heard Harry hiss beneath him as his grip tightened, his nails pinching the skin of Harry’s hand.

  
  


Then, suddenly, the pressure stopped. His arm was cold, and felt wet. He grimaced, turning further into Harry’s embrace, unwilling to look at his, presumably, mangled arm.

  
  


“Louis,” Harry whispered into his friend’s hair, “It’s okay, look—you’re a free man!”

  
  


Louis slowly turned, creaking an eyelid open to gaze down at his now castless arm. There was a scar running up the side of it, from the shattered window, but he was otherwise unharmed. His grip on Harry’s hand slowly loosened, and he looked up at his smiling friend.

  
  


“Told you it wouldn’t hurt,” Harry smirked, earning a light smack on the chest from Louis’ newly freed arm, “And now you can do that! Don’t you regret not letting them do it last time?”

  
  


“It was hardly my choice,” Louis retorted, glaring, “I fainted—and that burst my stiches and blah blah blah you know the story. I probably wouldn’t have fainted if you had been there.”

  
  


“Hey, I offered to take you! But Zayn really wanted to, and you were perfectly willing to let him—don’t blame this on me, Loony,” Harry told him teasingly. Louis rolled his eyes, turning to the doctor who was waiting patiently for their attention to return to him.

  
  


“I’ll need to see you again in a few weeks to make sure everything’s alright, and if you feel any pain you should come back in  _immediately,_ ” the doctor gave him a stern look, “Do you have any questions?”

  
  


Louis shook his head, eyes wide as he looked at the doctor’s slightly severe face. He heard Harry answer in the negative above him, and then he was being helped off the bench. Harry bid the doctor good-bye, as it seemed Louis was incapable of doing, and pulled him out the door by their still joined hands. Louis let himself be pulled along, examining his newly freed arm. The skin was paler than that of the rest of his arm, and the hair had turned dark. It was quite surreal for him, looking down and seeing his bare arm, where for the passed eight weeks he’d had a bright orange cast. He turned his arm over, inspecting the length of the scar. It began on the top of his forearm, trailing thickly over the skin until it curled under his arm, ending faintly just beneath his elbow.

  
  


He looked up as they exited the building, broken out of the contemplation of his skin by the harsh sunlight. Harry still hadn’t let go of his hand, although he wasn’t pulling him along as much anymore. He fought back a flush, peaking up at Harry through his eyelashes. Harry noticed his gaze, turning to look at his friend and smiling.

  
  


“When do you start work again?” Harry asked, noticing Louis’ suddenly awkward expression. Louis looked startled at the unexpected question, but smiled once he realized that Harry was just making conversation.

  
  


“Monday,” Louis answered cheerily, “I have the rest of the week off, because Simon wants to make sure I’m completely healed before I go back. Plus, I need to build up the strength in my wrist again.”

  
  


“’Course,” Harry agreed, “Mum’s leaving on—what’s tomorrow, Tuesday? She’s leaving on Tuesday.”

  
  


“Oh, okay,” Louis scuffed his foot along the tarmac a bit as he walked, “Shame. I liked having her around.”

  
  


“Me too,” Harry smiled, pleased, “The girls are going to be devastated.”

  
  


“Oh no,” Louis groaned, “I hadn’t even thought about that—Georgia’s going to flip a shit.”

  
  


“Well, I mean, it’s not like she’s  _that_  far away,” Harry reasoned, “She lives on the other side of town.”

  
  


“Yeah, but the girls aren’t going to see it that way,” Louis explained, rubbing this forehead wearily, “It’s going to be like she’s leaving forever.”

  
  


“We’ll deal with it,” Harry told him, reaching into his pockets for his keys as they neared the car, “And she can always come back to visit, or something.”

  
  


“Yeah, I suppose,” Louis sighed, watching as Harry unlocked the car, “It’ll be a lot easier explaining this than it was to tell them my mum and dad weren’t coming back.”

  
  


“Louis,” Harry stopped, turning around to look at his friend sadly. Louis smiled a bit, shaking his head.

  
  


“It’s fine, Harry,” he gave him a reassuring smile, “I’m fine. Sometimes things just slip out, you know? You’re not always aware that you’re thinking them, but then the words are on your tongue and it’s too late to stop them.”

  
  


He released Harry’s hand, turning quickly and getting into the passenger’s seat, effectively ending the conversation. Harry sighed at his friend’s actions, frustrated that he was so unwilling to talk about his feelings. He knew, however, that pushing him would only lead to Louis shutting him out entirely—and he wouldn’t risk that. Louis would come to him in his own time.

  
  


With that thought safely tucked into his heart, he opened the driver’s side door and clambered into the car.

  
  


*~*~*~*

  
  


“Ew, it looks weird,” Daisy wrinkled her nose, eying her brother’s arm, “Why is it all small and pale?”

  
  


“Because it’s been in a cast for weeks, Daisy,” Louis chuckled, “It hasn’t been used properly, nor has it seen the sun at all—that’s what happens.”

  
  


“Will it go back to normal, ever?” Phoebe piped up, wide-eyed. Louis grinned, tweaking her nose affectionately.

  
  


“Of course it will,” he answered, “It probably won’t even take that long, either.”

  
  


“Does this mean you’re going back to work soon?” Georgia asked, her face slightly forlorn, “I like having you home all the time.”

  
  


“I do have to go to work, Georgia,” Louis told her, “Because we need the money. But it’s not like I’m never home—most of the time that I’m out, you’re at school.”

  
  


“Except for on weekends when you leave Lottie in charge,” Georgia mumbled petulantly. Louis sighed, tapping her knee to get her attention.

  
  


“Well, now that Harry’s living with us—”

  
  


“What do you mean ‘now that Harry’s living with us’?” Louis looked up to see Lottie standing in the doorway, a hesitantly hopeful look on her face. Louis wincecd.

  
  


“Did we not tell you guys?” His question was met with blank stares, “No? Well, Harry’s moved in.”

  
  


“Wait, ‘moved’? Like, past tense? Like, he’s already moved in?” A grin bloomed on Lottie’s face, and Louis nodded.

  
  


“Yeah, his stuff’s in our bedroom,” Louis said, unable to contain a small smile at his sister’s evident glee.

  
  


“Our? You’re sharing the bedroom?” Lottie squealed happily, “I knew it! I  _knew_  you were together!”

  
  


“I—Lottie, no, we’re not—” Louis shook his head, fighting back a blush that threatened to color his cheeks, “We’re not together. We just decided that, since he’s wormed his way into our life, he should just come live here. I could use the help, yeah? And he likes being around you guys, so…”

  
  


“Aw, is  _Loony_  embarrassed?” Lottie teased, “It’s alright, Lou, we don’t mind that you and Harry want to be together.”

  
  


“I—Lottie, no, that’s not how it is, okay?” Louis sighed, “Harry doesn’t want to be with me, we’re just friends.”

  
  


“But you want to be with him, then?” Lottie asked carefully, aware that she was treading on thin ice. Louis winced at his slip up.

  
  


“I—uh—never said that,” he tried. Lottie gave him a pointed look, wordlessly telling him what she thought of that response. He sighed again, “I… I wouldn’t say ‘ _no’_ , if he asked.”

  
  


“I knew it!” Lottie laughed brilliantly, “I absolutely  _knew_  it!”

  
  


“Lottie,” Louis hushed her frantically, “can you not announce it to the entire world, please?”

  
  


“Why not?” Lottie asked, still grinning, “Now you can be together!”

  
  


“Well,  _no_ , we can’t,” Louis told her, “Harry doesn’t want me—I’m pretty sure he’s straight, anyway.”

  
  


“Straight?” Lottie let out a derisive snort, “Lou, what heterosexual male do you know who willingly shares a bed with his best friend for extended periods of time?”

  
  


“Liam and Zayn!” Louis exclaimed triumphantly, “They share a bed all the time!”

  
  


“They’re together, Louis,” Lottie informed him exasperatedly, “I think you knew that, to be honest.”

  
  


“A little,” Louis admitted, “But that doesn’t change the fact that Harry obviously isn’t interested in me, okay?”

  
  


“Wow,” Lottie shook her head incredulously, “You—you really are oblivious.”

  
  


“What? How?”

  
  


“Louis, honestly, if you can’t tell by now that Harry is hopelessly in love with you, and has been pretty much since you met, then I don’t know how to show you that he is,” Lottie explained, “Other than him telling you outright, of course. But it doesn’t look like he’s going to do that, so… You’re gonna have to make the first move, here.”

  
  


“I  _can’t_ ,” Louis told her desperately, “I can’t risk it.”

  
  


“Why?” Lottie asked, getting a bit angry, “Why can’t you? Broken hearts heal, Louis, you’d get over it!”

  
  


“It’s not just that!” Louis cried, “It’s alsot the fact that if I tell him I’m in love with him, and he rejects me, then he won’t want to be my friend anymore—at the very least he won’t want to live here, and I can’t let that happen. I can’t  _lose_  him, Lottie.”

  
  


“Lose who?” Louis’ head shot up as Harry came into the living room, a confused smile on his face.

  
  


“No one, Harry—just forget you heard that,” Louis smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, but he felt numb. If Harry had walked in a few moments earlier, he would have heard everything, and that thought scared Louis. Harry frowned, coming over to sit next to him on the couch, arm automatically going to rest around Louis’ shoulders.

  
  


“Are you sure, Louis?” He asked, “You know you can talk to me about anything.”

  
  


“I’m sure, thank you,” Louis nodded, “Were you talking to your mum?”

  
  


“Yeah,” Harry sighed a little bit, “What’re we doing about dinner?”

  
  


“We could go out,” Louis suggested, “Since it’s your mum’s last night with us, and I just got my cast off—good way to celebrate and thank her for her help, yeah?”

  
  


“Sure, sounds good,” Harry agreed tiredly, “I don’t think any of us feel much like cooking, to be honest.”

  
  


*~*~*~*

  
  


“Alright, ladies, time for bed,” Louis ordered as he untied Daisy’s shoe, Harry helping Phoebe with her coat. He was met with groans all around, and he grinned a little bit, “If you ask nicely, Grandma Anne  _may_  agree to read you a story.”

  
  


Anne fought to hide a smile as she pretended to consider it, the girls all clamoring for her to _“please, please, please read us a story!”._  In the end, she nodded, herding the girls upstairs into Harry and Louis’ room, where the all piled onto the bed around her as she read.

  
  


Harry and Louis, on the other hand, moved to the kitchen, where Louis pulled out two glasses of wine. He gestured in offering, and Harry nodded gratefully.

  
  


“All I’ve got is white,” Louis informed him, but Harry shook his head.

  
  


“That’s fine, I’m good with whatever,” Harry sighed. Louis pulled out the bottle, uncorking it swiftly and pouring liberal amounts of the alcohol into the two glasses. He handed one to Harry, before sitting down heavily next to his friend on a stool.

  
  


“To your mum,” Louis said, raising his glass with a tired smirk, “May she live forever. Bless her.”

  
  


“Amen to that,” Harry grinned, taking a sip of his wine in tadem with Louis. They sat in comfortable silence after that, casually sipping their wine as they lost themselves in their own thoughts. They were startled out of their thoughts as Anne walked into the kitchen. She smiled at them, gesturing behind her.

  
  


“’Send Daddy and Louis up to say ‘goodnight’, please’,” Anne said, “I’ve distributed them to their respective beds, but they want their goodnight kisses.”

  
  


“I’ll go first,” Louis said, knocking back the last of his wine before standing up and patting Harry’s knee as he passed him, “You stay and finish that at your own pace, love.”

  
  


“Thanks, Lou,” Harry smiled gratefully, turning back to his mum as his friend exited the room, “What’s that look for?”

  
  


“You two are so domestic,” Anne told him exasperatedly, “Speaking of, we never finished that conversation the other day.”

  
  


“What conversation?” Harry asked innocently, ducking behind his wine glass as he took another sip. Anne rolled her eyes.

  
  


“Don’t play dumb with me, Harry,” Anne told him sternly, “I’m your mother, I know things. So, tell me: are you or aren’t you in love with Louis?”

  
  


“I—” Harry began to protest, before sighing, staring into his wine glass as though it held the secrets to the universe, “Yeah, I am.”

  
  


“So, then, are you together, or what?” Anne asked gleefully. Harry laughed bitterly.

  
  


“No,” he answered, “Because he’s not in love with me, so, that’s not happening.”

  
  


“You’re frustrating,” Anne told him flatly, “He  _is_  in love with you, okay? Please, end all of our misery, and tell the lad before I lock you two in a closet.”

  
  


“I would, mum, but I can’t risk scaring him off,” Harry shook his head, “I’m happy, okay? I’m happy being his friend. I don’t  _need_ more from him.”

  
  


“You will,” Anne said sadly, “You may think you’re fine now, but eventually, it won’t be enough. I don’t want you to reach that point, Harry. I want you to be happy. If you reach that point, you won’t be happy, and it won’t be fixable.”

  
  


“Sorry to interrupt,” Louis said carefully, entering the kitchen slowly, “But they’re ready for you.”

  
  


“Oh, okay,” Harry left quickly, not making eye contact with his friend. Anne watched Louis watch Harry. Once Harry was out of earshot, Anne turned to Louis.

  
  


“You heard, didn’t you,” she asked, although it wasn’t a question, and they both knew it. Louis sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

  
  


“Yeah, I did.”

  
  


“Make good use of this information, Louis,” Anne instructed, “Don’t waste this.”


	12. Chapter 12

Louis sighed heavily, pulling on his pajama pants hurriedly, thoughts swirling rapidly around his head.  _I’m happy being his friend._  His shirt hit the floor with a muffled thump, and he uncrumpled the plain, white t-shirt he wore for bed, the cotton hugging his shoulders familiarly.  _I don’t need more from him._  He ran a hand through his hair frustratedly.  _I can’t risk scaring him off._  He flicked on the light on the bedside table, the lamp lighting up with a soft sound.  _You may think you’re happy now, but eventually, it won’t be enough._ He shoved the covers back, climbing into the bed and crawling over to his side of the bed, laying back to wait for his friend.

  
  


_So, tell me: are you or aren’t you in love with Louis?_

  
  


_Yes, I am._

  
  


*~*~*~*

  
  


Harry yawned as he clambered up the stairs for the second time that night, after saying “good-night” to his mum. His eyelids felt heavy, his head fuzzy with exhaustion. He passed the closed doors of the girls’ rooms, his feet silent on the carpet as he made his way to his and Louis’ bedroom. He could see the soft glow of the bedside lamp under the door, the light localized to the left side, rather than the bright light that spilled out when the overhead light was on. His fingers automatically reached for the door knob as he approached, wrapping around the cool metal and twisting carefully, pushing the door open.

  
  


Louis looked up as the door opened, sitting up to watch Harry enter. Harry stopped just over the threshold, staring at Louis with startled eyes, not expecting Louis’ gaze. His expression melted, shock slipping cooly off as confusion flickered fleetingly in his green eyes. Louis didn’t move, barely daring to breathe as the tension built between them, opting to watch silently as understanding replaced confusion on Harry’s beautiful face. Harry’s lips pressed together into a thin line, his cheeks flushing as he stared determinately into Louis’ eyes.

  
  


“You heard,” he whispered, and it wasn’t a question, his low tone sure and unrepentant. Louis opened his mouth to speak, his throat clicking obstinately on his first try. He coughed once, before attempting again.

  
  


“Yes,” his voice low to match Harry’s, a quiet rasp present in the back of his throat. Harry took a shaky breath, his chest expanding slowly as he breathed deeply. Louis’ eyes didn’t move from Harry’s face, waiting for a reaction. Harry’s eyes flickered back open, carefully blank as they stared into Louis’.

  
  


“And?” Harry asked, his voice not rising above a whisper this time either—it was as if neither of them were willing to speak louder for the sake of the tension permeating the room. Louis chose not to respond, instead standing from the bed and walking to stand in front of his friend. Harry tried desperately to calm his racing heart, sure is cheeks were glowing. Louis paused, looking up at Harry with a gaze void of emotion. He leaned up on his tiptoes, slowly, _painfully_  slowly moving his face closer to Harry’s, as if to make sure what he was doing was okay. Harry’s mind went blank, his conscious scrambling for something to do. Finally, something clicked, just as Louis’ lips were about to touch down. “Stop,” Harry whispered pleadingly, “Please.”

  
  


Louis pulled back, looking dazed and a little hurt. “What?” He asked softly, confusion coloring his tone, “Why?”

  
  


“Because if you’re doing this out of pity,” Harry explained quietly, “or as a joke, it’s neither wanted, nor funny. I’m in love with you, Louis. Please don’t abuse that.”

  
  


“You know what your mum said when I told her I had overheard your conversation?” Louis asked lowly, his blue eyes achingly sincere, fire dancing behind his irises as he tried to make Harry understand, “She said ‘don’t waste this’. So this is what I’m doing to ensure that the information I’ve acquired doesn’t go to waste.”

  
  


“Well,” Harry muttered, eyelids drooping as Louis leaned back in, meeting no resistance from Harry this time around, “Look who’s swallowed a dictionary.”

  
  


And with that, their lips met, Louis’ hands curling into the front of Harry’s shirt to anchor himself as he stood on his toes. Harry’s eyes slipped closed, and he exhaled heavily through his nose as he returned the pressure of Louis’ mouth.

  
  


Heat began to pool in his stomach, bubbling joyfully so he couldn’t tell happiness from arousal. His hands moved of their own accord, wrapping tightly around Louis’ hips, the fabric of his pajamas crinkling under his large fingers. Louis huffed lightly, pulling away and turning his head for a better angle, his own hands slipping into Harry’s hair to twine through the curls. The pressure returned almost instantly, and Harry used his grip on Louis’ hips to pull him closer.

  
  


What had started as soft, gentle pecks was quickly turning into something much more heated. Louis’ tongue swept out darlingly, tracing the seam of Harry’s mouth. Harry’s mouth opened automatically under him, arousal hooking him behind his navel and tugging sharply. He sucked Louis’ tongue in impatiently, relishing in the groan that tore from his friend’s throat at the action.

  
  


His smugness faded, however, when he felt Louis’ tongue sweep slowly over his cupid’s bow, a low keen vibrating in his throat in appreciation. His hands wandered down, wrapping around Louis’ thighs; he hesitated a moment, unsure how far Louis wanted to go, before lifting his swiftly. Louis’ knee hooked around Harry’s waist, and his arms slid backward to get a better grip. Harry’s own arms wrapped around Louis’ waist, to ensure that he wouldn’t fall and ruin the moment.

  
  


Louis’ skin was hot under the thin cotton of his t-shirt, the warmth burning into Harry’s own searing skin as he staggered over to the bed. Louis’ landed on it with a soft  _oof_ , their contact breaking for a moment. Louis stared up at Harry from the bed, cheeks flushed and eyes shining as he panted quietly. After a very intense moment, Louis’ eyes broke the contact, flicking down to Harry’s lips almost of their own accord. He surged up, grabbing Harry’s shirt and yanking him down onto the bed, flipping them quickly and crawling up his body to plant another searing kiss on Harry’s lips. His hands fisted his shirt, the material wrinkling around his fingers, and Louis groaned.

  
  


“Too many clothes,” he mumbled shortly, pulling back a fraction of an inch, and Harry keened in agreement. Louis pulled back fully, and Harry had to suppress a whine as cold air flooded over his chest. He watched silently as Louis tossed his shirt over his head, flinging the material to the side carelessly, before his hands attacked the buttons on Harry’s, ripping three in his haste. He discarded of that, as well, not bothering to right it as it landed haphazardly on the lamp.

  
  


He leaned back down, finished undressing for the moment, and obviously impatient to touch. His hands slipped down Harry’s torso, palms caressing the expanse of his ribs as his fingers mapped each bump and indent on Harry’s naked flesh. His lips attacked Harry’s, their tongues dancing together intimately. Harry’s hands clutched at the back of Louis’ head, curling around his scull and threading through the slick strands. Louis’ tongue caressed his in tandem with the hands traveling painstakingly slowly down his body, and Harry couldn’t suppress a moan at the sensual onslaught.

  
  


Louis’ hands reached his hips, pausing to stroke the heated skin. Harry was tingling all over, burning up where Louis touched him, drunk with the sensation. His hips bucked, suddenly desperate for more contact, the teasing caress on his hips stuttering to a stop as their pelvises collided. Louis’ keen was high and frantic, piercing the air with an unimaginable urgency as he bore down on Harry’s hips in response.

  
  


“ _Fuck,_ ” he cursed fervently, grinding harder as his lips met Harry’s once again, their teeth clacking briefly as Louis’ kissed him hurriedly, “I hope you’re planning to follow through, Harry, because you’ve brought it this far and I don’t think I can stop now.”

  
  


“Are you kidding?” Harry asked hoarsely, propping himself onto his elbows to nose at Louis’ neck, “I’ve been waiting forever for this—I am if you are.”

  
  


“Thank God,” Louis breathed, pulling back a bit as Harry chased him, leaning back to sit on his heels, letting Harry sit up against the headboard, before moving back in, his thighs clenching Harry’s hips and his hands sliding deliciously up Harry’s chest to curl around the nape of his neck as he leaned in, shoving his lips over Harry’s fiercely. Harry broke the kiss this time, not allowing Louis a moment before diving down to Louis’ neck.

  
  


He dragged his lips over the skin, sucking bruises into the flesh. Louis tossed his head back, a whine crawling out of his throat and gasping passed his lips. Harry grinned into the skin, biting softly, scraping his teeth down the side of his neck, leaving thick, red lines that he soothed with his tongue. Louis squirmed, thrusting his hips down in search of elusive friction that Harry was deliberately avoiding giving him.

  
  


His head shot up when Louis’ hips met his, and his back arched. The new angle caused their erections to collide ineffably. His hands wrapped around Louis’ hips, Louis’ own curling around his neck. It was Louis’ turn to lean forward, his lips finding Harry’s nipple. Harry let out a shout, back arching further, his head thumping against the headboard, his fingers slipping into Louis’ hair and tugging almost painfully.

  
  


“You like that, huh?” Louis smirked, lips curving filthily around Harry’s nipple. Harry groaned in response, scraping his fingernails along Louis’ scalp to urge him on. Louis licked down, tracing a circle around the dark splotch under Harry’s nipple, before pulling back. Harry’s whimper was cut off as Louis kissed him again, grinding down as he did so.

  
  


“Fuck,” Louis cursed, his hands flying to Harry’s trousers, “ _Fuck_  me.”

  
  


“Yes,” Harry growled, doing a barrel roll and covering Louis’ body with his own, tensions high as frustration escalated. Harry shoved his pants down, removing his boxers swiftly as he did so, before moving his hands to Louis, tugging his pants and underwear off quickly as well, with little preamble.

  
  


He stopped short, panic hitting him hard as he realized—Louis was a  _man_. He had a penis—he didn’t know what to do with a penis! The only one he’d ever touched was his own, what if he did something wrong? And Louis wanted him to fuck him, to boot—he had no idea how to _prepare_  for that.

  
  


Louis, sensing his hesitation, propped himself up on his elbows, watching the fear and lust war on Harry’s flushed face. He reached out, pulling Harry closer to press a sweet kiss to his lips, feeling Harry relax under his touch. He pulled back, resting his forehead against Harry’s.

  
  


“I know I said earlier that I wanted you to follow through,” Louis whispered, “But if this makes you uncomfortable, we can stop.”

  
  


“I don’t want to stop,” Harry responded immediately, his own voice equally soft, “It’s just—I’ve never done this before.”

  
  


“What?” Louis looked shocked at the confession, “At all? Or just with men?”

  
  


“Men,” Harry told him quietly, eyes squeezing shut in embarrassment, “I thought I was straight until I met you.”

  
  


“That’s okay,” Louis assured him, a small smile curving his lips softly, “I can show you this time, and maybe next time, you can do it.”

  
  


“You—” Harry cut himself off, clearing his throat awkwardly as it tightened, his eyes shimmering, “You want there to be a next time.”

  
  


“Yes,” Louis said hoarsely, his own eyes looking suspiciously wet, “I’m bad at feelings, Harry. I don’t even know what I’m feeling most of the time, let alone how to express it—it took me way too long to figure out that I’m in love with you.”

  
  


“You are,” Harry whispered, awed, his hand climbing to cup Louis’ cheek so they were mirror images, Louis’ own hand resting against Harry’s face as their foreheads kissed, “You’re telling me we could have done this sooner?”

  
  


“Probably,” Louis grinned, “But I kind of like how this is going.”

  
  


“Me too,” Harry’s answering smile was adoring as he gazed upon his lover. Louis pressed his mouth to Harry’s, their smiles making it difficult to kiss each other properly.

  
  


That night, under the glow of the partially covered bedside lamp, they made love, soft pants and groans marring the silence that otherwise encompassed them. Kisses were frequent, and hands wandered reverently, taking the time to map out the skin of their partner, knowing they had the rest of their lives to learn every inch of the skin that covered the one they loved. And as they climaxed, they whispered their love into each other’s hair, the words caressing and encompassing them as they cradled each other in their arms. That night, they fell asleep wrapped around each other, worn and sated, skin flushed and glowing, hair mussed and sweaty, more content than they had ever been.


	13. Epilogue

Louis looked up at Harry, smiling as he caught the boy’s eyes on him. He nodded towards the two men standing next to him, indicating cheekily with his head to pay attention to the ceremony. Harry winked at him, turning back to watch as Niall choked out his vows, tears streaming steadily down his flushed cheeks. Sean watched him reverently, hands cradling Niall’s as he listened to the words falling from Niall’s lips.

  
  


Louis smiled, his eyes prickling slightly. Over the last few months, he and Harry had been immersed in plans for this “wedding”. It was as close to marriage as the two men could get, and it had been a very interesting experience helping with the arrangements. Despite his initial dislike of Niall at dinner, Louis had grown very fond of the blond-haired Irishman, and Harry often complained that he’d been replaced.

  
  


“Harry’s looking at you  _again_ , Louis,” Lottie whispered from beside him, an exasperated smirk on her face. Louis’ eyes swept over to his lover, his mouth quirking into a small smile as he noticed his gaze on him again. He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, lifting his hand and pointing at Niall and Sean. Harry’s mouth split open in a goofy grin before he turned back to the proceedings. Lottie groaned quietly, feigning retching next to him, giggling when he kicked her gently.

  
  


The girls had been wonderful about his and Harry’s budding relationship, although they had taken to teasing them mercilessly, as had Liam and Zayn. That is, right up until Harry and Louis had walked in on them. They had offered to babysit while Harry and Louis went out for date night, and they had come home to Liam straddling Zayn on their couch, the girls asleep upstairs.

  
  


They made a neat little pack, the six of them. Niall, ever amicable, befriended Liam and, more surprisingly, Zayn. Niall had brought Zayn out of his shell, and the two had quickly become fast friends.

  
  


Louis watched as Niall slipped a band onto Sean’s finger, a watery smile lighting up his face. The two leaned over, playfully shoving each other as they signed the paper. Louis grinned, his eyes finding Harry on their own. Harry was already watching him, and answering smile dimpling his cheeks. Louis’ own cheeks flushed happily, and he glanced at his hands bashfully.

  
  


He’d never get used to the way Harry looked at him—like he was the most precious thing he’d ever had to behold. Harry liked to tell Louis he loved him; when they woke up in the morning, when he came home from work, when they were having sex, and at completely random times, catching him off guard and making him blush brilliantly. Harry’s eyes would light up, his lips quirking into a small smile as he leaned over to kiss him softly.

  
  


Louis had had a little more trouble saying it, but Harry didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. That was one of the reasons Louis loved him—Harry understood that, because of Louis’ past, he needed to hear that he was loved, but he couldn’t reciprocate nearly as easily. So, Louis showed him he loved him, in little ways. He didn’t need flamboyant declarations to make his love known. He showed him in the reverent little kisses that he littered over Harry’s body to wake him up. He showed him in the burned pancakes turned cereal and milk in bed that he gave Harry on his day off. He showed him in the surprise kisses that he attacked him with on a whim, without any prompting.

  
  


And it was because of this that Louis knew that Harry knew that he loved him. And Louis did love him. With all his heart.

  
  


*~*~*~*

  
  


“May I have this dance?” Harry’s cheeky smile lit up his eyes with mirth, dimple carved delicately into his cheek. Louis grinned, rolling his eyes and accepting the hand offered to him, following his lover out onto the dance floor, where Niall and Sean had just finished their first dance. Other couples were flocking to the wooden floor, the DJ playing a slow, melodic song. Harry drew Louis up in front of him, wrapping an arm around Louis’ waist, his other curling around Louis’ hand as Louis’ own cradled his neck.

“This time next year, that’ll be us,” Harry whispered, leaning down to rest his forehead against Louis’ as they swayed to the music. His partner sighed, a soft little smile curling his lips as his arms tightened around Harry’s neck.

“Will you wear a dress?” Louis breathed softly, his tone disguising his words for a few brief seconds, before the actual message registered in Harry’s brain. He froze, staring incredulously down at his lover, before laughing heartily, pressing a kiss to Louis’ mouth.

“No,” he murmured against his lips, still chuckling, “but you can, if you want.”

“You only say that because you want to get into my knickers, for real,” Louis answered playfully. Harry didn’t say anything more, merely pushing another kiss across Louis’ lips, and cradling him as they danced.


End file.
